My Companionship
by The Tea Junkie
Summary: One cannot journey alone, as this story states. But for Anoriel, who's only true friends are dead, some at her own hands, will or can she, find a companion?
1. Prologue

-Prologue-

**-Prologue-**

"Shadowmere, you must go faster!"

I leaned my head down next to the horse's neck, urging her on with all I could. The miles to the farm were not flowing behind us fast enough. They would not flow fast enough even had I been in a Guild teleport on Morrowind. Being Arch Mage, I had heard of these things. _Something to implement_, I thought fearfully.

I looked carefully at even the trees. If they were watching him, certainly they would be watching his Silencer. I thought of the dread rooms under the lighthouse in Anvil; where I had taken the diary, even the head as proof for the Black Hand. I had screamed at the Nord-"Give me the key, fool!"-while brandishing Sufferthorn, knowing my face was filled with unholy fear and rage. When I had heard the whispers in the taverns of the horrifying stench, I was afraid they had already gotten him. I had burst into Bellamont's rooms not like an assassin, but like an Orc on a skooma-bender. I crept horrified through the filth, finally laying hands on the diary. I had left, leaping onto Shadowmere and riding immediately toward the farm.

The need for sleep and food had left me. The only comfort I had was Gorgron's words. _"I once saw him deal with a person who had broken the Tenets...I was cleaning the blood off of my boots for a week."_ I had no doubt that Lucien could fight. And no matter what he told me that night, when his rage exploded after I had killed Ungolim, it was my fault. The handwriting was different. The assassinations were harder, the targets more cunning. I had hated the drop system to begin with, for I loved to see my Teacher-but now, this was madness.

_Mara_, I prayed to the wind, _keep him safe. Do not let me fail. Help me, Mara._ Breton, born under the sign of the Ritual that I was, Mara was dear to my heart. I did not pray to Sithis. Sithis was of no help to me at this moment.

The farm finally came into view in the distance, an outpost in the snows near Bruma. "Ride for your master, Shadowmere!" I whispered into the horse's ear. I was now on full alert. If I could just get in the door, the odds of us winning would increase. It would now be two instead of one. I peered ahead, straining my eyes in the failing evening light. There were no horses in the yard. I unsheathed my blade as I rode up, and began whispering spells of shielding. With one last glance around, I dropped off Shadowmere and opened the front door.

The word "Teacher?" died on my lips. I turned around and vomited, vomited my heart, and wailed far into the night.


	2. Chapter 1

-Prologue-

-Chapter One-

I peeked through the brush at the Imperial City.

I was one very wanted lady, and I needed to sneak in to see Armand Christophe as soon as possible. I had left Shadowmere grazing in the fields beyond Lake Rumare, and I crossed the lake quietly, avoiding the patrol of the night-guards. Soggy, I crept up the bank, and dodged behind houses as I entered the Waterfront District.

I slipped quietly into Armand's house.

He was up quickly, knife pointed at me, legs parted in a battle stance. "Armand Christophe!" I hissed. "It's me, Anoriel!"

"What in the name of Dareloth are you doing sneaking into my house like that?!" he roared.

"Answer your own question, Christophe. Are we not of the Thieves Guild?" I smirked.

Armand stuck his knife into the chunk of venison he had been neatly cutting before I arrived. "Damned upstart," he laughed, and I laughed with him.

"You are in a bit of trouble, I hear, Anoriel? It is not often the Mages' Guild kicks out its own Arch Mage!"

"He looked like a Dremora from far away! I graced him with a fireball, and Raminus Polus is not exactly pleased, so it seems. I have to visit him after our business is through. What kind of a wizard guards his keep with Dremoras, and then doesn't expect a sneak attack?"

"One that did not know that he was a target of the schemes of the Gray Fox, I expect."

"True," I said. "Anyway, onto business, if you don't mind. I expect I have grovelling to get on to."

I gave Armand the twenty gold it would take to cover expenses, and asked after Methredhel. As I turned to go, Armand said, "Anoriel."

I turned back. "Yes, Armand?"

Armand shifted uncomfortably. "You have not been yourself this week. Orrin says you are breaking your lockpicks at an alarming rate! This is not like you. Your armor is torn up. A contact saw you weeping near a statue in Bravil, another noticed that you are making trips to a ruined fort outside Cheydinhal. What are you doing, Anoriel?"

I had not wanted to continue in the Dark Brotherhood after the treachery. I had attempted to fulfill the Night Mother's wishes, to go to the statue and speak to her. I got close, and backed away, weeping still at the loss of my Teacher. I had indeed travelled to Fort Farragut, hoping to find some piece of Lucien that I could keep. At the bottom of the barrel of poisoned apples, I had found a ring of ebony. Black as his cloak, hard as his mind, rich as his voice. I slipped it on my finger and left. Shadowmere had whinnied at the silent Fort. I sat on her, looking at the ruins, and choked, "There is nothing there, friend. Only ghosts, and the Dark Guardians who still ceaselessly patrol for a Master who will never return." The Cheydinhal sanctuary was closed to me for now. I could not face it.

"Armand. I do not want to tell you too much, as I know your loyalties lie with the Thieves Guild, and I know your mind on other...brotherhoods." His breath caught and eyes narrowed at my implication. "I wish no rivalry, friend, so I will only say that there has been a storm of destruction, and in it, I have lost someone dear to me."

"A lover?"

"No...but the desire for him was there, though unrequited. A teacher."

"Anoriel...the Brotherhood is bad business!"

"No lectures. Not right now. Let me finish my dealings with Raminus Polus, as it's late and soon he will be leaving. I will come back. I need rest and companionship. If you see Methredhel around, ask if she would mind if I borrowed her spare bed, would you?"

"Certainly. Shadow hide you."

"Shadow hide you, Armand."

I left the shacks and walked into the broadly paved dock avenue. The Marie Elena floated on the water, and I ducked down inside to change from my armor into the Deceiver's Finery, hoping against hope it would soften Raminus. My armor was in desperate need of repair. Armand was right.

Climbing back onto the street, I started thinking back. The past week, I had thought of everything Lucien had ever said to me. The way I hung onto his words that I did for no one else. The way he always left me wanting more, wanting to pick his brain, force him into a pub where I could loosen his tongue with wine. He told me that I would serve him. I failed, I failed, I failed in my final task...

"Anoriel."

I whirled, but it was dark and no shapes were made clear to me.

"ANORIEL."

That rich voice. _I am losing my mind_. My legs trembled. What gods-forsaken, horrible joke was this...

"Show yourself, you wretched bastard, so I can tear out your false tongue!" I roared at the shadows. Someone would pay for this terrible trick.

"How," smirked the voice, "do you expect that dress to work, with such hate as you spew?"

I stood silently. Only those in the Brotherhood knew of the enchantments on the velvet.

A dark figure stepped out, taller and broader than myself. The lights of the city were on his back. I could not see his face.

"It cannot be," I whispered, my hands rising to my face.

I backed away. "What foul trick of the Necromancers is this!"

"It is no trick," said the figure.

"Let me see your face," I implored quietly.

The figure pulled back his hood.

_Mara, be with me!_

It could not be a trick of the Necromancers. They could raise one from the dead, yes...but Lucien would have no face...

Lucien took my arm firmly and started walking. I stared at him, open mouthed, as we walked.

"Anoriel. We need somewhere private. We must speak!"

"Yes, yes...I know, let me think..."

Lucien suddenly screamed, and I saw an arrow in his shoulder. The Brotherhood. They knew, and they were coming to finish what somehow, they didn't before...My blade was out, fire starting in my hand, before I saw Methredhel's eyes peeping over a box. Her bow was in her hand, and an arrow pointed at Lucien's eye.

"METHREDHEL! STOP!" I screamed at her.

"Who is this fetcher dragging you around!"

"Gods, Methredhel, it's a friend!"

"I am your friend, and I have done no such dragging!"

"Put the damned bow away!"

Lucien was reaching into his cloak, wincing as he pulled out the arrow. "Wait for a minute," I said to him, and went to Methredhel. I grabbed her by the arm, and hissed, "Do you know who you just shot?"

"Some rough-housing fetcher with his filthy hand on my friend!"

"You ass. That is a Speaker of the Black Hand!"

Methredhel stepped back, her eyes wide. "Gods, save me. I am going to the chapel!" She looked ready to take off at that instant, and I clutched her arm.

"I need a favor, and right now, you need to get back in his favor. Lucky is the Elf that it all works out. Let me use your house for the night, and perhaps the Speaker will not be so ill-disposed to the foolish Bosmer who shot him!"

Methredhel narrowed her eyes. "You all in rich velvet, his hand on your arm, wanting to use my house for the night? Do not use my bunk!"

I almost choked her. I turned red. "It's not like that!" I grabbed for gold coins in my pocket. "Go stay at the Tiber Septim, pickpocket the rich, and give me your fetching key!"

Methredhel flipped the key, winked at me, and walked up to Lucien, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Sir. Let me help." She cast a simple healing spell, and Lucien smiled and stretched his shoulders, although he glanced around with a wary, hunted look.

"I know Anoriel is put out, my marksman friend, but I for one am glad she has such sharp eyes helping her. I only wish her friend would ask questions first!"

Methredhel smiled and looked around. "The guards are patrolling again. It is best to move, Anoriel. They know the cloaks of the Black Hand."

"Yes, we must part. Do not get caught picking pockets!"

I took Lucien's arm and we ducked back into the close gathered shacks. I guided him quickly and silently to Methredhel's house, not saying a word until the door locked behind us.

He was looking at me as I turned from securing the door. He continued to study me quietly. I blushed under his appraisal, and I felt treacherous tears starting in my eyes. It was indeed Lucien.

"You have done much growing up in a week's time, Anoriel."

"...I am embarrassed to use the word "grief", but that is what it was. Grief does that to a person."

"You grieved for me?"

"Yes. And the entire province of Cyrodill is wondering why I am grieving, if you must know."

"Well, all eyes are on the Hero of Kvatch, Anoriel. Sometimes I wondered how you got your Brotherhood work done."

"I had an excellent teacher."

"Put your grief away, Anoriel. I am here."

"And how are you here, Lucien? How in the world are you here? At first, I thought it was Necromancer devilry. But your arm was warm, and you bear none of the wounds I saw on your body..."

"Let us sit, and find some wine, for it is a long story, dear Silencer."

I opened the cabinet. Cheap wine, cheap, cheap, cheap! This could not be so. Methredhel was a thief, after all. I doubted if she'd purchased anything in a decade! I spotted a loose floorboard, and pulled it up.

"Tamika Vintage, Lucien?"

"Wonderful, thank you. The goblets are on the table."

I popped the cork with a lockpick and sat in the chair, as he poured.

"You should really eat as well."

"I will when you have told your story."

Lucien grinned. "Yes, you have grown up, talking to me like that! You have gotten me shot, hustled me into a shack, and now you tell me what you will and will not do. You are pleasing to my humor, Anoriel!"

His face grew intense again, the one I had always known. He looked at me over the rim of his cup as he took a deep swallow of wine. His hood was pushed back, and his eyes flickered.

"Tell me what you found at the farm, dear girl."

"Lucien...it was awful."

"The body, Anoriel. How could you tell it was me?"

"I could not. The face was...gone, the body was broken...even the parts that would tell me that it was a man were gone."

"It was a man."

"Yes, I could tell by the chest...I was humiliated and repulsed for you, Lucien."

"No one said the Dark Brotherhood was not gruesome."

I drank some wine and watched him. There was no answer for his statement.

"What of the face, Anoriel?"

"It was burned...the mouth was gone."

"Black, it was?" Lucien grinned.

"Absolutely charred...why are you grinning?"

"I did that."

I sat up straight. "Start at the beginning!"

Lucien grinned harder. "Occasionally bandits and the like will come out to Fort Farragut, searching for treasure. I make a habit of roaming the fortress once a week, picking up the bodies and disposing of them. Sometimes they are still alive, though...good for testing my poisons on." He laughed. "Also to keep the Dark Guardians on their toes. Anyway, once an Imperial came out."

"Like yourself."

"Yes, like myself. With dark hair...but green eyes. I kept him, thinking at some point, he may serve a purpose. Anoriel, what are the trademarks of my body?"

I opened and closed my mouth. "The eyes. The voice."

Lucien smiled, and looked at me intensely while he took another deep drink from his glass. He was holding it with both hands, and breathing in as he prepared to swallow. I covered my lips with my hand, so he could not see them part.

"When the Brotherhood was closing in, I realized it was time for my friend to play his part. He had not seen the sunlight for two years...he lived in a cage in the Fort for that time. I shoved potion after potion of invisibility down his throat as I led him to the farm. I can cast, but that poor fetcher could not. Or would not. No matter. We arrived when it was still safe. I knew you could not have even finished in Anvil by that point, and would likely have a few more days of work ahead of you. I had not given you enough time."

"Time was not yours to give at that point, I fear."

"Indeed not. And recognizing the features that you pointed out, I cut out his tongue at the farm. He would not speak, would not give away the voice that would betray him. And with his screaming silenced, I plunged his head into the fireplace, letting it char and burn to black. In his blood, I wrote a note apologizing for 'my' betrayal and nailed it to the front door. He was weak and could not move, barely crawl. Nonetheless, I fastened a ring on his finger, one I had used for a target long ago. It drains fatigue. He was going nowhere.

"I had barely left the farm when I heard horses in the distance. I knew they would track me. So I had put him on my horse while I walked, making it appear as if I had been walking my horse. I cast Invisibility once more, and hid in the bushes as I gazed through the window.

"They did not even hesitate. The robe and dark hair were enough for them. I heard Arquen say, 'We shall do to you much worse than you can do to yourself, Lachance!' And so they did. You saw the results."

"Indeed, I did."

"I waited for you to arrive, to make sure you were safe. Only twelve hours behind them, dear, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. Poor Anoriel, I saw you vomiting at the front door. Surely you did not do that on all your contracts?"

I gave him a steady look.

He leaned over the table, intensity increasing. "You know why I sought you out, of all people. The vomiting was one reason. Another was when I accused you. I told you I saw confusion in your eyes. I also saw hurt. You were hurt that I thought you would do that to me."

I said nothing.

Lucien leaned farther over the table, eyes burning. "Will you deny that you were hurt?"

"I will deny nothing, nor say anything about my feelings now. I am a wretched, forsaken wreck from what you have just told me. Not," I said, seeing the alarm in his eyes, "about you being alive and breathing. That heals my heart! But all the information I have just heard. I do not know about my future in the Brotherhood. I do not."

Lucien leaned back and sighed. "Do not forsake the Brotherhood, Anoriel. It was the fault of one that all this happened."

"I do not know. I don't know anything!" I put my head on the table, resting my face on my folded arms as I gathered my thoughts.

I heard him sipping wine.

I got up, and went back to the floorboards. Four more bottles.

"Lucien. I do know something," I said, while I crouched.

"Yes?"

"I am going to get rip-roaring drunk. Right now."

Lucien laughed and held up his goblet in a toast. "I believe this place is secure enough. I think I may join you. This week has been...exasperating."

"Let me talk to a friend outside quickly. He will keep an eye on the place, if we both intend to lose our heads."

Exiting Methredhel's house, I peeked over the wall outside into the Garden of Dareloth. "One more favor, Armand!"

"What is that?"

"I am feeling tremendously better. I am going to celebrate by liver-murdering. I am locking up, but keep half an eye on the house, will you?"

"As long as you promise to talk to me soon," said Armand.

"It is done, friend!" I giggled joyously and stepped back inside.

--

"You," I slurred, "cannot be serious."

"I," he slurred back, "am incredibly serious."

I burst out laughing. "Apricots with LEGS?"

"You need to shut your mouth!" he giggled. Even through a drunken stupor, I realized I was hearing Lucien giggle. Could the day be more surreal? I picked up an apple and waved it at him threateningly.

"Watch out! It may grow legs!"

"If you ever tell anyone that," he grinned, "I will draw and quarter you."

"Try that, and I will stab you with the blade you gave me. Perhaps even stand over your bed in a dark robe, talking about murder, and scaring the daylights out of you!"

"We need," he slurred, "more wine."

"There is the cheap stuff, right behind you."

Lucien opened the bottle, poured too liberally, and flooded the table. It ran down my dress and his robe. "You miserable fetcher, you have ruined my dress!" I started laughing hysterically. I could not stop; worn out from the day and the unfolding of Lucien's story. I took up the long skirt, and folded it in half, letting the dry hem sit against my legs. I leaned conspiratorially over the table, drunken courage rising. "Lucien," I said seriously, "there is something I must know."

"What is it, Hero of Fetching Kvatch? Mistress High Listener? Arch Mage-tress of Cyrodill? What, in Sithis' name, must you know, that a drunkard like me would be able to tell?"

"Did you ever...have...er...relations...with Antoinetta Marie?"

Lucien's eyes grew wide around his mouthful of wine. He promptly spit it out as he roared with laughter.

"Oh, gorgeous!" I cried. "Now look at the dress!"

"Why, in the gods' name, would you ask me that?" he choked.

My drunken courage took a dive. "She always hinted that she was special to you."

He smiled slyly. "All of the daughters of the Night Mother are special to me, dear Anoriel."

I slumped in my chair.

"However," he said as he leaned across the table, eyes locking into mine, "she never served me."  
I scooted back up.

"As did my beloved Silencer, who risked all to ride to my aid, who vomited on the porch, who wept at the statue, who took an old ring of mine, and wears it even now." He tilted his head at me, looking devious and intrigued at the same time.

I was stricken with embarrassment. My stomach churned. "Excuse me," I said weakly. I ripped open the front door and vomited three bottles of wine on the porch, sheer nerves taking their toll. As I started to stand back up, a whisper came from behind me.

"I would rather you not show your affection by puking, dear girl. It has happened twice now, and I am afraid it is becoming something of an unsettling pattern."

I gripped the railing tightly, suddenly sober. "Do you want the ring back?"

"No, Anoriel. It warms my heart to see you wear it. To know that even in death, you would still fight for me. Me or my memory."

I stood quietly. "I suppose I hoped your heart could be warmed."

He smiled. "Rarely does it happen. But it does," he said evasively.

We went back inside.

"I want you to sleep now, Anoriel. We have much to discuss still...but the night grows old, and I want you to rest, and sleep, and finally do so easily. I will watch over you."

"What about you?" I asked. "Surely you are tired."

"I slept most of the day waiting for you to arrive. I will be fine," he reassured me.

I relaxed inside. It was comforting for Lucien to take the reins again. It was easy, and natural, to obey him.

"I must see Raminus Polus in the morning. Armand Christophe as well. Once all that business is cleared up, Lucien, I will have plenty of time."

"Even with Martin waiting?"

"Martin expected this quest to take a while. I have time. And now, I will sleep..with you guarding me in case apricots come waddling in."

"Keep it up, Anoriel, and this will be your last sleep!"

I laid down as Lucien settled into the chair, and the candles burned low.


	3. Chapter 2

-Prologue-

-Chapter Two-

I opened my eyes and stared at the poorly patched ceiling. I was cuddled up with patchy blankets, and the mattress was thin and shifty. My back hurt, my eyes were crusty, and I smelled like a tavern...Wonderful.

Ever so quietly, I turned my head to see Lucien slumped over the table, his head cradled in his arms as he slept. The candles had burned down low around him. _I wonder what he dreams,_ I thought. _I wonder if his face is peaceful in sleep, if he can relax now, now that the hunt for him is off..._

My tongue was thick in my mouth. _Dispel Hangover_, I thought. _That is something I need to get those useless scholars working on. The Mages Guild would be richer than the Emperor himself, if we could sell those potions.  
_  
I placed a hand on my chest and whispered a Restoration spell. The headache alleviated a little...but that was all.

I got up, barefoot, and quietly padded around the shack, picking up the empty bottles. I let myself out, taking care not to bang the door shut as I went, and hid them in an empty barrel in the Garden of Dareloth. Taking a bucket from the porch, I walked to the shores of the lake, and filled it with water. I trudged back to the porch with it, and washed the porch clean of the vomit that was there.

I slipped back inside, and carefully counted out a hundred gold coins. I slipped them in the floor where the wine had been. I adjusted the bedcovers, and poked at my hair with my fingers. Good enough. I put on my shoes. I sat on the edge of the bed a minute, enjoying the peace of the moment. And Lucien, alive, and well, and peaceful, breathing softly in the corner. Deciding to approach the sleeping beast, I walked to the table.

I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Lucien."

Bright eyes looked back at me, twinkling. "Yes?"

"You were not sleeping?"

"I told you I would watch. And then I decided to stay here quietly when you awoke, to see what you would do."

I tilted my head. "And what is it that you were hoping I would do?"

His lips curved into a roguish smile. "Nothing I would say in mixed company, dear girl!"

"You were hoping I'd change my dress! Isn't that a bit of interesting information!"

Lucien laughed and stretched. "I will neither confirm nor deny. But it was kind of you to leave the gold. I wish you had let me do it."

"It is no matter. There is plenty of gold out there for the taking."

"Yes, indeed. Now, what are you doing this morning?"

"Going to see Raminus Polus, and then speaking with Armand Christophe."

"Good. I need to fetch my horse, and it will likely take a few hours. Shall we meet back here?"

"No, come to Armand Christophe's when you return. I will likely be there."

"Very well. Then we will see what the rest of the day holds."

I smiled at him and went out the door.

--

_What, exactly, am I going to do with a renegade Speaker of the Black Hand in my possession?_

I closed Methredhel's door softly behind me. Wind from the lake ruffled the hem of my dress as I aimed towards the Arcane University. I reached the edge of the cluster of shacks, and turned into a corner. I sat down heavily on a large rock, and put my face in my hands.

I then began to sob.

_Lucien, Lucien, he is all right. He is alive and well, and in good humor, and he is dropping hints at me...yet I feel like I barely know him. All of those dead drops robbed me of conversation with him. I wanted to tear up every envelope because it was not him, he was not there, and it was not good enough.  
_  
_I am acting like a teenager._

I am relieved, that is why I am crying. I am not crying because I am confused, and scared...I am not crying because I have to go up against these damned Daedra, again and again, alone, in Oblivion...I am not crying because my heart hurts at Martin's anxious face...

Yes I am.

It is just too much.

I stood up resolutely, gritting my teeth, and brushed off my dress, clearing the bits of grass from it. _He is adding to my confusion. We either sort it out, or go on with our lives. Perhaps the Night Mother can help._

You are acting like a fool! Are you going to seriously sit him down and have a conversation about the 'state of your relationship', when the poor man appeared to you not twelve hours ago?

I bit my lip and stood very still. _It is time to go to the Guild. You must keep moving. If you are still too long, you will fall apart. Lucien brings you peace and joy. Perhaps he can soothe your soul, as you go on._

I started walking purposefully.

--

Raminus Polus immediately fixed me with a sour face when I came in. Julienne Fanis quickly made herself busy with alchemy equipment.

"Raminus," I said nonchalantly. "You wished to see me?"

"Anoriel. You have murdered another guild member."

"It was an accident. His keep was full of Dremoras, I thought he was another one!"

"Well, what were you breaking into his keep for?"

"I wished to speak to him," I lied.

His eyes narrowed. "Surely that is what Arch Mages might send a letter for!"

"The deed is done, Raminus. What would you have me do?"

"Bring twenty Daedra hearts, or twenty portions of vampire dust."

I rolled my eyes. "Raminus, this is nonsense, and you know it. Send a scholar to collect such trivialities!"

"You are journeying into the Oblivion gates, are you not? Surely it would be easier for you to get them!"

"As you wish." I turned to take the portal to my room. I knew he thought my ascendency within the Guild was too fast, but this was ridiculous.

"Anoriel." Raminus said in a low voice. "You reek of wine. You look haggard. You are not a presentable Arch Mage. Get yourself together, or so help me Talos, I will find some way of replacing you."

The stress of my days of late came bearing down hard on me. "Here," I said angrily, tossing a filled black soul gem at his feet. "Have Traven, for all the help he may be to you now."

I teleported upstairs, hearing Julienne's shriek as I went.

--

Not having a home of my own, I simply had piled my belongings on the table upstairs. I picked through them, taking what I would need for a while. I also found three portions of vampire dust. _A start_, I thought._ And if that fetcher Raminus keeps on me, I will replace him. A guild is burnt in Bruma and he wants me out collecting specimens. And Martin needs me. Perhaps Irlav Jarol's face would look better in the lobby. Indeed._ I stuffed my belongings in my sack, and quickly exchanged the armor in my pack for Antoinetta Marie's armor. I loved the Brotherhood's armor. I had taken everyone's. Now I had five suits, all in good repair.

After teleporting back into the lobby, I approached the Imperial. "Raminus. I have duties for you to do. I am aware I have been demoted to an Apprentice, but when I reassume my position, I want these things done. Send messages to Morrowind. Ask them if we can learn about their teleportation system over long distances, possibly sending scholars. Ask the guild stewards if they have encountered any of these black soul gems. Also, find out about that steward in Balmora-find out if she is still abusing her power. Send people to Bruma, and see if the building can be saved there. I need a report on it, perhaps with available properties nearby if the hall cannot be salvaged."

Raminus didn't say anything.

"It had better be done," I said. I picked up the black soul gem from the floor. "How rude of you do leave Traven on the floor like that!" I muttered. I opened a display case, stowed him safely inside, and locked it with my Arch Mage's key. I sidled up close to Raminus, and I could see his eyes narrow. "Whatever you think of me, Raminus, Traven chose me. I intend to honor his memory, and eradicate the Necromancers where I can find them. I do not plan to sit in this ivory tower, as an example of uselessness, when there is so much that needs to be done. I will collect your hearts, Raminus, but I have much else that needs doing. Now. Please get those tasks done. We need to restore order, if our Mages will weather this crisis, and be of any service to the Empire."

Raminus nodded quietly after a thoughtful moment. "I respect you for what you have said, Anoriel. These tasks will be done. And know that I am not angry at you for replacing Travern. I am merely disappointed in the murder, as you were once a favorite student of mine."

I smiled at him. "I understand. Oh-one more thing. Our Battlemages? See if any of them are available, in case the Blades need extra protection for Martin."

Only then did I hear Julienne's neurotic whistling, as she tried very hard not to look at us. I shook Raminus' hand, squeezed Julienne's arm, and smiled at them both as I opened the heavy door to the sunlight.

I walked over to the gate that barred me from the University. "You! Scholar! Come here," I ordered.

"Yes, Arch Mage? er, Apprentice? Gah, I was never good at speaking. What may I do for you?"

"Whatever it is you are working on, Scholar, stop it. Find a way to make a potion of Dispel Hangover."

His eyes widened. "What a grand idea, Arch Mage! Imagine how much we would sell!" His voice trailed away in an excited fit of muttering.

"Thank you, Scholar. Now I must go."

He bowed and hurried off.

--

"Anoriel."

"Armand."

We smiled at each other.

"Whatever it is, Anoriel, I am tempted to forgive you without another word. Even stinking of wine, your eyes are bright, and your cheeks glow. You look so happy."

"I have no problems, Armand. I came only because you requested so. But all I can say is, the loss I spoke of to you was a mistake. There is no loss."

"You love the man in black. He is the Teacher."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Love is a strong word, Armand..." I did not want to reveal too much. Secrecy was imperative to the Brotherhood.

"The man in the black of the Dark Brotherhood. I did not figure you for a killer, Anoriel."

"I did not either, Armand."

"Then how did you get mixed up in this?"

"Like most things, it was an accident, Armand..."

I told him the story of my first burglary-the one that had gotten out of hand. The mark attacked me, and I fought back, defending myself. "Not a Thieves Guild quest!" I interjected.

"And so the Brotherhood came to you in your sleep."

"The man in black did."

Armand's eyes widened. "Then he is high in the ranks of the Brotherhood."

"I am not sure about that anymore, Armand. A lot needs to be sorted out."

"Go on."

I almost wept as I continued. I was whispering. I had barely admitted this to myself. "I resisted. I did not want to kill Rufio. I had no contention with an old man! But I could not get the Speaker out of my mind. I wanted to see him again. And killing Rufio was the only way..."

"You took a life so you could see him again." Armand looked stunned.

I tried to justify. "He did not have much life left, he was old, and I'm sure he had done something worth his death..."

"Anoriel." Armand looked so sad. Sad for my weakness, or sad that he did not know me as well as he thought he did?

"The Speaker came back to me, told me to go to the Sanctuary. I did so. I questioned everyone slyly about him, hung around the Sanctuary hoping that he would appear, rushed through my contracts so I could raise high in the ranks, hoping that I would be important enough for the Speaker's attention again."

Armand blew out a deep breath.

"You have to understand, Armand, a lot of these marks were bad people. Morrowind's Morag Tong would have had no problem executing them. And your contacts on Vvardenfell tell you the Morag Tong is honorable, do they not!"

"The Morag Tong is honorable."

I sat back in my chair, vindicated.

"Did you ever rise high enough, Anoriel?"

"I became his personal assassin."

"You must be good, then," Armand mused.

"I half considered it training for my service to Martin," I said honestly.

Armand shrugged. "Yes, picking Dremora pockets would not help Martin much, would it?"

We sat in silence, Armand tapping his fingers against his chin thoughtfully.

"His personal assassin, you say? Do you think you will get any higher?"

"Armand. That secret may cost you. I will say no more." I stiffened. _I just want to protect you_.

"Is he an honorable man, Anoriel? I do not want to go against a Speaker of the Black Hand for the honor and safety of my friend, if it comes to that!"

I softened. "You are a rare friend, Armand. I believe he is honorable, though perhaps not in the way sanctioned by the Emperor...he holds to what he believes in, and never wavers, even in the face of death."

"Will he accompany you?"

"I do not know, Armand. We have not finished our discussions on what the future holds."

"He would be an asset to the fight against Oblivion, if he could be turned."

"Yes. He is worth ten of the normal watchmen."

"Only ten? Maybe I could take him!"

I smiled warmly.

There was a soft knock on the door. Armand jumped up, venison knife poked out.

"Yes," I laughed, "take him down with a steak knife! It is likely him, Armand. Shall I let him in, or should we part now?"

"Let him in, Anoriel. I want to see this spectre with my own eyes."

I opened the door. His shape blotted out the light like an eclipse. Lucien said quietly, "Are you finished with your discussions, Anoriel, or shall I wait out here?"

"No, come in, we are almost finished."

Lucien walked in and smiled at Armand. Armand offered his hand, and they shook.

We all sat. Armand continued, "Have you finished your last quest for the Gray Fox?"

"I have to fence more goods. Raminus Polus is holding them hostage until I bring him Dremora hearts."

Armand's face twisted. "That is disgusting."

"The Gray Fox," mused Lucien. "A lot of rumors swirl about him."

"Almost as many as about you, friend," said Armand carefully. _Poor man. He is uncertain with this murderer in his house. These two murderers.  
_  
Lucien smiled, but I felt Armand slightly recoil at it.

"Well," said Armand, "get on with your Daedra-butchering, I suppose. I know you have many things going on, Anoriel, but the Gray Fox needs you as well."

We all stood.

"Be well, Anoriel. Shadow hide you."

"Shadow hide you, dear friend."

Armand turned to Lucien. "I doubt you need my blessings of shadow. But help Anoriel, and I will be grateful."

Lucien said, "Anoriel needs little to no helping, but I do not intend to part from her."

"Very well," said Armand. "Until you return."

Lucien and I walked out.

We went quietly to Shadowmere and Lucien's white horse. I mounted, and hesitated.

"Do you want Shadowmere?"

The horse was nuzzling into Lucien's hood. "Shadowmere was my gift to you, and that remains. And how would my new friend feel if I left him for another horse?" Shadowmere gave Lucien a huge lick across the face with her giant tongue, and sniffed him uncontrollably. He laid his forehead against hers for a moment, cupping her long face with both hands, and whispered words I could not hear. The sun reflecting off the lake sent the metal rings of the bridle to fire as Lucien handed me the reins.

Lucien mounted.

"Where would you go, Anoriel?" he asked quietly, riding his horse close. The two horses sniffed noses, stamping in greeting.

"I barely know. I do have to go to the Shrine of Mehrunes Dagon, and try to retrieve the Amulet of Kings. I need to gather Daedra hearts. And...I must decide about the Brotherhood." I stared hard at the lake. _If only my to-do list involved groceries and sweeping. My heart is too gentle. I have not the courage._

Lucien looked pensive. "My counsel is this. You have kept the Night Mother waiting, stalled the entire operation of the Brotherhood because of your indecision. I do not blame you! However, it is best to finish that, I think, before we go on. It is a short ride to Bravil, and we can discuss what you shall do on the way."

"And what will you do, Lucien?" I asked as we put the horses into an easy trot.

He looked at me achingly. "I do not honestly know. That depends on the Night Mother's counsel...and yours."


	4. Chapter 3

-Chapter Three-

-Chapter Three-

We rode the horses out of the Imperial City, travelling over the long bridge to the west. We rode quietly, the only sound being the whispering of the lake and the clap of the horses' hooves over the carefully laid brick. The early afternoon sun bounced off the water, and set the white columns around us to glowing. I turned my head to look at Lucien. His head was slightly bowed, looking at the road ahead.

He cleared his throat as we reached the end of the bridge. "Bandits will probably think us easy targets," he said. "Neither of us is wearing a scrap of armor."

"It would be an unfortunate bandit who decided to rob us," I replied.

We passed onto the dirt road, underneath the trees. The high grasses rustled, and the lilies of the valley and foxgloves reached toward the blue sky bravely. Green velvet moss formed patchwork on the clustered trees, shining dimly in the filtered patches of sun. Shadowmere snuffled as three deer skittered across the road, leaping gracefully down the embankment.

"A few hours to Bravil, do you think?" asked Lucien. He spoke as one preoccupied.

"Surely, not much more. We should stop and rest somewhere along the way though. Give the horses a chance to graze, and feed ourselves. I have not eaten yet today."

"Do you want to stop now?" he asked absently.

"No, I will be fine for a few hours."

I wondered at this choppy, uneasy conversation. We carried on, the horses walking straight but occasionally touching noses. I held the reins only loosely in my hands, glancing around at the trees.

"If you see any Nirnroot, let me know, please," I said quite a while later.

"I am not familiar with Nirnroot; what is it?"

"Apparently a rather rare plant. An alchemist in Skingrad says he will make me some potions if I can bring him some. It's a squat, blue-green sort of plant, with two large leaves."

"I will keep a lookout," Lucien answered.

Many minutes of silence passed. _He is divided in mind about something._ I began to feel wretched, thinking of the camaraderie of last night. Was it only drunken ease? I had hoped we would be closer, that this man would finally open up to me. I blew out an exasperated breath. The wind gathered up and blasted, and our hoods were blown from our faces. I noticed then that Lucien had long hair, kept back in a little ponytail. I smiled to myself at this. One of these days, I will grab that little ponytail, and then-

"What on earth are you thinking about?"

"What?"

"You are looking at me with the strangest look on your face. Like you are plotting something."

"Erm, no."

"Erm. Yes."

I started laughing. "And what would you have me plotting about?"

"Ravaging me brutally," he answered casually.

My mouth dropped open.

"Aha! I knew you were plotting!" Lucien cried in triumph, an evil grin snaking wickedly across his face.

"I was...I was thinking about...picking locks..." _Horrible cover._

He checked his horse and kept laughing.

"Oh, do shut up." I huffed. "Or I will summon a fierce apricot to make you do so!"

Lucien kept grinning, and started the white horse walking again.

The horses, seeming to recognize the play of their masters, bumped noses roughly and whinnied. The white horse licked Shadowmere's nose. Blushing, I looked straight ahead, while Lucien watched me with amusement. I sat in silence as we rode on, and then finally decided to broach the subject that had been bothering me.

"At least you are seeming playful. I was beginning to become worried at your silence."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "It is a relief to be playful. It is as if I am dragging myself to the Night Mother, in fear of what she will say."

"I doubt she will strike you dead on sight, Lucien."

"Still." He sighed and looked off into the distance. "I have devoted my life to the Brotherhood. If I was intended as a sacrifice to Sithis, I would be honored. But I did not feel it was so." He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, and looked directly at me. "I wanted to speak to her, and learn if this was true. But if I was truly intended to die at the farm..." He trailed off.

"If you were truly intended to die at the farm, you would be dead." I was certain of this. "No one can escape our killers for long, Lucien. Even you, if it was destined."

He seemed to think on this. "I agree with you. However, she may tell me that there is no place for me. Then, what am I to do? My skills are murder, killing, and more murder. If she tells me no, Anoriel, where would I go from here?"

We rode quietly for awhile, the afternoon sun starting its westerly path. I pulled my hood back up over my face, to shield my eyes from the specks of glare that ricocheted off of the pommel of my blade. Lucien had slipped back into uneasy thought.

"You could fight with me, for Martin." I uneasily spoke my deepest wish. _Stay with me._

Lucien pulled the white horse to a stop abruptly, eyes afire. "And now we touch on another sore spot," he spat. "Stop where you are. I want to know the truth, right now."

I checked Shadowmere, confused. "All right."

He swiveled on the horse, angling his upper body toward me. His eyes were molten, his hands clenched on the reins inside their gloves. He sneered, "Lady Anoriel! Arch Mage, Listener, Hero of Kvatch. Would she add Empress to her titles?"

I sat back in revulsion at his harshness. "What are you saying?" I said evenly.

"What do you do up there, Anoriel, locked away with Martin and the Blades in that temple? Why is a young, beautiful woman so closely cloistered with them? Answer me." His face was twisted with disgust.

"Martin and I are working on a plan to stop the Daedra and close the gates. Surely you know that, it is common-"

"Why you!" he snarled. "You are not of the Legion, you are barely a Blade, did they not find you in prison? Tell me, Anoriel, how did you become so important? Because Martin desires you?"

"Martin has never spoken a suggestive word, Lucien, he has never made a courtly gesture, he-"

"STOP!" he roared. He reached out, grabbing my arm, and drawing my face close to his. "I will ask only once more. Do you desire to be an Empress?" His voice was low and frightening.

I recoiled. "I have no desire to be an Empress, for Mara's sake! Let me go!" I twisted away. _You think so little of me. No wonder you will not open your mind to me._

We looked at each other, faces twisted in anger, hands gripping the reins hard, breathing fast. The horses were nervous under us, licking their noses in appeasement.

"Where," I breathed angrily, "did you come up with such an idea."

"Tell me who this Martin is first. Tell me what this man is like."

I blew out a breath, sending loose tendrils of hair flying. "He was a priest in Kvatch. The Emperor's last son. He-"

"I know all that," Lucien said with impatience. "Tell me about his soul."

I tilted my head. "Martin is good," I replied. "Too good. He is all light and honesty; gentle and thoughtful and worried. He worries that he will not make a suitable Emperor. He takes on too much." I wondered at this path of questioning.

"Will he make a good Emperor?"

I hesitated. "Lucien...I do not think so. He has no idea how to lead a people."

He leaned back, looking thoughtful. "If you loved him, you would fawn over him, I think."

"I do not love Martin. I hope for Martin, and I will protect and help him, but I do not love him. Now, will you please tell me how this idea entered into your head!"

"I stayed at many inns on the way to the Imperial City. Men talk," he said. "Many wonder how an upstart young lady has gotten so close to the Emperor's son. It is rumoured," he continued, "that she is up there, consorting with Martin, hoping to beget another heir, in case Cyrodill falls. Then she will take the child in her belly to the relative safety of Morrowind, until he comes of age."

I sat stunned.

"And in this way," Lucien continued, "the Dragonblood will not fail."

I sat quietly for a moment. Myself, carrying the heir of the Empire? I certainly was not suitable.

"Well, Lucien," I said softly, "it is not true." I smiled a small, evil smile. "It is, however, a damned good idea." I winked at him. "I shall have to tell Methredhel," I commented. "I am sure she would love to be an Empress. She could pickpocket everyone in the Imperial Palace, over and over again!"

Lucien smiled slowly, but looked abashed.

"You are not finished," I said quietly.

Great brown sad eyes looked at me. "Let us stretch our legs, Anoriel, and find a place to eat."

We walked the horses to a little clearing to our left. I tucked my reins away into Shadowmere's bridle, and put my riding gloves in my pocket. Lucien was rummaging through my pack. "Ale, cheese, and bread," he commented. "It will do well enough."

He broke the bread in half as I crumbled the cheese. "We will have to drink from the bottle," I said. "I do not carry dinnerware."

The horses had found a small pool of water to the right, and were drinking eagerly. I gave Lucien most of the cheese, and sat on a rock. I nibbled on my cheese. I was not very hungry.

"I thought you were hungry," Lucien said around a mouthful of cheese.

I chewed a bite slowly. "I suppose," I started haltingly, "that I am preoccupied."

"With our conversation?" He passed me the bottle of ale.

I drank deeply and looked at the horses. Lucien's horse was resting on the grass, and Shadowmere was biting a fly off of her flank. "I do not know why the idea of a relationship between myself and Martin would be unsettling to you." I put the last bit of cheese into my mouth and chewed, washing it down with a swallow of ale. "I suppose I have an idea, but I wish you would say it." If he would murder me in the forest for my impudence, so be it.

Lucien reached for the bottle, and I handed it back. He picked up the half loaf of bread from his lap and gave it to me. I tore it apart, piece by piece, not really tasting it as I put it in my mouth. I watched him, as his eyes lit up as he looked into the east, and slowly faded out again as he thought.

"How long until Bravil?" he asked huskily.

"Perhaps another hour."

"All right. Let us finish the meal, and then we will talk. We have plenty of time."

I stretched my legs out in front of me, wiggling my toes. Lucien was eating very slowly. I finished the heel of the bread, and reached for the ale. Lucien handed it to me without really looking at me.

I took a drink, and said, "I think I will go to that pool over there by the horses, and wash my face off."

Lucien nodded, and I got up from the rock.

Walking felt good to me. I took wide steps, banishing the creaks from my knees and ankles. Shadowmere switched her tail at me as I approached.

I squatted down, reaching for the cool, clear water. Moving the hem of my skirt carefully, I dipped my hands in, and rubbed the water around my tired eyes._ I must have a bath in Bravil. I cannot keep smelling old wine on me._ I reached out to a lily of the valley near the water's edge, and crushed the bloom. The heady scented nectar dripped onto my finger, and I dabbed it under my hair. I picked a few more around the water's edge, to put in the bath later. Looking down at my reflection, I adjusted my windswept hair. As I was shoving the tendrils back into the pins, a new reflection appeared next to me. Blue water melted into black.

"Where did you get purple tinted hair, anyway?" Lucien asked.

"Alchemy." I smiled and continued my poking. "It's mostly black, though."

"Yes," he smiled. "The sun makes that clear." He seemed calmer, and I felt more at ease.

"You are funny," I said. "Me going to bed with Martin. He is a priest, for Sithis' sake. We would need a coach to show him how to do it!" I stuck my spare lilies in my hair. "Perhaps," I said teasingly, "you would serve as a good coach."

"Me?" he asked innocently. "I know nothing about such things!"

"Yes, it's a shame," I said. "Antoinetta Marie was willing to teach you, and all..."

"I have half a mind to shove you in the water."

"And the other half?"

"Thinking this is going to be a good way to finish our conversation." He offered his hand, and I placed mine in his as he raised me.

I folded my hands at my waist. "Go on."

Lucien placed his hands on my shoulders, sliding them down to my upper arms. "I am glad I found you," he said quietly. His thumbs stroked my arms. "I have decided that if the Night Mother denies me, I will go with you."

"And if she does not?"

Lucien blew out a breath. "If she does not, she could stick me in the Sanctuary, or send me on more contracts, or Sithis knows what. It will be up to her, if she will have me." He pulled me a little closer, gently. "But that may mean we do not see each other often," he said hesitantly.

"I have enjoyed our time together, Lucien. I would be glad for you to be with me."

"Do not fall in love with Martin," he whispered. Great sad brown eyes. "This is my answer to your question."

"I understand your answer, even though you play coy about it," I whispered. "I said before that Martin was light. He is, Lucien. He is all light-far too bright for me. And you," I said, placing a hand on his arm, "are not as dark as you think you are. I have seen the evil in Oblivion, Lucien, and it is black. You and I," I continued, shifting my weight, "are shades of gray."

He bowed his head, forehead touching mine. "Dear Silencer," he said, breath tickling my nose.

I rubbed my nose against his. "Thank you for coming. You bring me peace, Lucien."

He smiled a smile tinged with irony, eyes closed. His hands reached around my back, resting on my shoulder blades and drawing me in. I nuzzled my head into the hollow spot where his neck and collarbone met. "I do not know how," he whispered, lips lightly brushing my ear. "Murderer that I am."

I put an arm tentatively around his back. The other I laid across his chest, hooking a hand around the back of his neck. He was taller than me, and I rested my chin on his shoulder, looking at the road beyond. "I am a murderer as well, Lucien!" I whispered urgently. "Do not think you are so dark!"

His hands skimmed me, one splaying at the small of my back, another cupping the base of my hairline. "Dear, obedient Silencer," he murmured. "I have always been with you, watching over you."

I smiled into his shoulder. "I am glad." _Thank you, Mara, for the blessing of this beautiful creature._

He leaned slightly backwards, and my chin dropped off of his shoulder. The hand in my hair tightened, and I looked up at him. His lips parted slightly, and he closed his eyes. I licked my lips, and closed my eyes.

My lips twitched with little bursts of eager static, waiting.

Waiting...

"Anoriel."

I opened one eye. He had pulled back.

"What?"

He looked at me sadly. "I would not start what I may not be able to finish. I should speak to the Night Mother first, before we entangle ourselves in this." He reached into my hair, tangling both sides into his hands as his eyelashes skimmed my cheeks. "I am sorry."

"That is honorable of you," I whispered. _Ahh, he would kiss me._ The feeling was almost as good as if I had actually been kissed. "It is just good to be held, Lucien," I said quietly. "I have not had human comfort, as such, since the day I met the Emperor."

"I wanted," he breathed, holding me tight, "to keep you with me, ever since the day you returned from the Purification, swinging down the ladder into my home. Covered with blood, tired, and falling asleep right in my bed."

"I could not sleep at the Sanctuary. I could not."

"Yes, I understand that. Poor thing, killing your only friends in the Brotherhood. And then all you had left was me."

"It was lonely. That is certain!"

He rested his chin on the top of my head. "I sent you on dead drops until I could learn more about Martin. I did not want to become used to you."

I did not say anything. I reveled in the sun warming my feet, the grasses tickling my ankles, and these good strong arms around me. The hilt of his sheathed blade poked me in the stomach.

Lucien leaned back slightly, and looked down at me. "Shall we continue onto Bravil, to learn our fate? For I do love to hold you, but I would also have the knowledge that I may do it freely."

"Yes," I said resolutely.

We went toward the horses.

--

The gates of Bravil closed behind us with a hard metallic thud. The gate guard gave us an appraising look, then went back to staring straight ahead. A rain had started, and Lucien's hood seemed to melt around his face. It was early evening in this dank, damp city, and none of the houses put forth any comforting light. I pulled my hood tighter against the back of my head, blocking the tickling drops from my brow.

"Shall we go to the statue now? Or is it too early, Lucien?"

"I think that what happens at the statue may not be exactly...low key," said Lucien. "I would wait until later, hard as that is. What shall we do while we wait?"

"Do you want to spend the night here?" I asked.

"Yes, let's do that."

I thought for a second. "Okay. I don't want to go to the Lonely Suitor...because I know a lot of people there. How about Silverhome-on-the-Water?"

"Ashamed to be seen with me?" Lucien managed a half smile in spite of his worry.

I shook my head vigorously, wet hair slapping my cheeks. "No...it's just that, I don't want any questions until I know what's going to happen."

"I understand that," he said, shifting his weight. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," I replied. We started off toward the inn.

The people of Bravil were out in the narrow streets, leaving work to go home to their families or to drink up at the inns. They moved quickly in the rain, pulling up hoods to stay dry.

"'Tis the Hero of Kvatch! Hail, great lady!" I heard a call from my right, and looked over to see a lovely Nord woman waving at me. I gave a smile and waved back, and continued walking with Lucien.

"The fan club is out and about, then," he smiled.

"Hush, just keep moving, I don't want to be followed," I whispered to him.

The cheery light of the inn peeked out from the windows as we approached. Lucien mounted the steps and held open the door as I hurried inside. I glanced around, a Bosmer and two Dunmer were the only patrons that I could see. I shook off my hood and approached the counter. "Hello," I greeted the innkeeper. "I am in need of two rooms for tonight."

The Altmer looked at me wistfully. "I am sorry, ma'am, but I have no rooms. With that Oblivion gate opening up outside the town, a bunch of folks from the outlying settlements have decided to come into the city for protection." He held up his hands in a gesture of resignment. "There's no room at the Lonely Suitor, either." His eyes narrowed. "Gods know these folks checked there first!"

I turned to look at Lucien behind me, and on the side of him I caught a glance of the Nord woman coming in. "Lady Anoriel!" she called. She ran up, and seized my hands, squeezing them tightly. "I just wanted to thank you for helping Kvatch. My cousin lives there, I've had no word from him yet, but I'm still hoping, and I am so grateful that-"

"Lady Anoriel of Kvatch?" One of the Dunmer leaned toward me. "Why, I am sure you have important business here in Bravil! Perhaps closing that Oblivion gate!" He held up his beer stein. "A room for Anoriel!" he roared.

Lucien looked on with great amusement.

"Can share my room," the Bosmer slurred, and leered at me with a wide drunken grin.

"I don't think that will be necessary," I said frostily.

"Lady Anoriel, I can surely put you up!" exclaimed the Nord. "I've got barrels in the basement, yes, but I can move those quickly...Are you afraid of rats?"

"Oh, Father Sithis," Lucien mumbled.

The Bosmer got up and staggered toward us. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" he muttered at Lucien. He shoved Lucien over as he bellied up to the bar for a refill.

Lucien grinned widely. "Your worst nightmare," he whispered. "Say, your mother wasn't Arhinel, was she? Because, if she was, she begged before I cut her throat."

The Bosmer turned completely around, mouth hanging open. "Fetcher!" he roared. "'Twas my auntie!"

Lucien grinned even harder, making sure the barkeep didn't see it.

"What about someone's aunt?" the Nord asked. I shrugged.

The Bosmer pulled out an extremely small, rusty, and worthless dagger, and brandished it at Lucien. "My auntie!" he screamed.

"Now calm down!" yelled the innkeeper. "I didn't hear him say anything about your auntie, so you just need..."

The two Dunmer chanted, "Fight! Fight! Fight!", banging their fists on the table. One told his companion, "Bosmer's gonna be on a skewer, bet ya three gold."

The other Dunmer nodded. "Best place for a Bosmer, if you ask me." They slurped from their mugs.

This was getting out of hand, but I thought Lucien's purpose had been served. "Sir, I am not sure what the matter is, but my friend and I will be leaving now..."

"No!" yelled the innkeeper. "He's leaving! You can't come in here sticking daggers at folks and keep your spot! Here!" He pitched ten gold across the counter at the Bosmer. "Get out of here!"

"Where am I going to sleep?" whined the Bosmer. His face was contorted in anger, and his fist twitched in Lucien's direction.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes. "You've got family at the end of the street, for Arkay's sake! Go there! Out!" He pointed towards the door.

The Bosmer slunk out the door, muttering curses as he staggered into the street.

"Lady Anoriel, that was heroic!" gushed the woman. The two Dunmer roared with laughter.

Lucien started grinning again.

"Well, ma'am," started the innkeeper, "I am sorry for the trouble, but it seems I have one room available now, and I know we'd all feel much better if you decided to share a roof with us tonight..."

"We'll take it," said Lucien, and immediately pitched ten gold on the counter. He added another five. "For your trouble," he said smoothly. "Now, if you could point us in the direction of the room, the Lady and I have much to discuss..."

"Of course," said the innkeeper. "Upstairs, second door on the right."

"Bring us dinner at eight, please," said Lucien, and took me by the arm.

"Farewell, Lady!" called the Nord, and the two Dunmer raised their mugs in salute.

Lucien hustled me upstairs, and opened the room door. Inside was a bathtub, dressers, candles...and one double bed.

I swallowed.

Lucien seemed heedless of the cozy quarters. He swept into the room, slinging his pack into a chair and sitting down heavily in its mate. He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, stood up, sat back down, and put his head in his hands.

Watching him from the corner of my eye, I opened my sack and spread my Black Hand robes onto the bed. I smoothed the wrinkles out anxiously.

"Lucien-"

"Not now."

"Alright." I started to push the cupboard away from the wall. I edged it between Lucien and the bathtub, and felt somewhat relieved.

Lucien looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a bath." I opened the cupboard door, swinging it out to the side and giving me a little more privacy. "You need to think, I need to bathe, and now this won't be uncomfortable!"

Lucien grinned. "It would be a great help in taking my mind off things, dear Sister."

I went behind the cupboard, and poured hot water into the tub. "Lucien, just go on having whatever thoughts you were having. I am not even here."

A petulant sigh arose from the other side of the cupboard.

I undid my dress and slung it over the top of the cupboard. I pulled my feet from the little velvet shoes that I sometimes wore for silence. I carefully stepped into the bath, and unbound my hair after I sank into the warm water. The flowers from earlier fell into the tub, and floated like lily-pads around me as I shrunk under the water, only letting the tip of my nose above. I stretched all of my muscles, extending and reflexing, as I lay under the water. _Oh, I could fall asleep._ I pushed up, head breaking the surface, and stretched out leisurely, letting my feet hang over the edge of the tub. I closed my eyes, and reached for the soap, using little finger-fuls to wash my face. I washed my hair, piling it on top of my head and letting it absorb the scent of the soap. Ahh, good clean soap and delicious warm water!

I heard Lucien get up, and footsteps that went back and forth. Poor Lucien, pacing.

After I finished washing my body, I reached for a razor. _Still in my pack._ Lucien was lighting candles, as the room had grown very dark.

"Silencer," said Lucien. "I respectfully ask for your permission to inch sideways past you and light the candle near the door, as I cannot see a damned thing."

"That's fine, Speaker," I laughed. "But would you bring me my razor from my pack, as well?"

I heard rummaging and some muttering of "womanly clutter", but a black gloved hand appeared around the cupboard door and handed me my razor.

"Thank you, Speaker," I grinned, laying my head back and lifting a leg high to shave. "You have served me well."

"You should hurry up," said Lucien, "dinner will be here shortly."

"Hurrying," I said, running the razor over my legs.

I finished, and reached for the fluffy towels next to the bath. I squeezed the water out of my hair, and wrapped it in a towel. I stood up, carefully flicking each foot over the tub to fling the water off. Wrapping a towel around me, I closed the cupboard door and walked to the bed, reaching for my Black Hand robes and a blessed change of underwear.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Dinner. Lucien brushed past me to answer it, but paused a moment to glide one finger between my naked shoulder blades as I bent over the bed. I froze up, the touch electric, and slowly turned to face him.

He bit his bottom lip, smiling at me with devil's eyes, and then went to open the door.

I hurried once again behind the cupboard to dress, and combed out my damp hair. I left the hood of my robes off, and the top button undone so they wouldn't get wet. Lucien was placing hot food on the table, and I took goblets from my helpful cupboard and brought them to him.

He sat. "After we finish eating, we should go to the statue, I think," he said. He tried to say it nonchalantly.

"That is fine," I said, also nonchalantly.

Dinner passed without another word. But I tried to surreptitiously study him- the details of his face, the graceful movement of his hands, the far-away look in his eyes as he chewed thoughtlessly. _It could be the last time you see him for a while. Drink him in, remember his face. _I tried to memorize every bit of him.

"You have gray in your hair."

"So I do," he smiled, eyes refocusing on me.

"How old are you, Lucien?"

He smiled slyly. "Old enough, dear. If you are a good girl, and kill everything I tell you to, perhaps I will tell you." He pushed back his chair and rose. "Come, Anoriel, let's see where fate leads us, if you are ready."

I tucked my hair into my hood, pulling it up, and buttoning my robe. "I am ready."

--

We stood before the statue of the Night Mother.

I reached out to Lucien, and took his hand. He looked at me, eyes empty, and mouth drawn. I squeezed his hand, and then stepped forward.

"Night Mother, your faithful Listener is here."

The breathy, unearthly voice of the Night Mother seeped out of the statue. "Beloved Listener, I am glad you have come, and brought one of my finest sons. Come out of the rain, step into my crypt...for I wish to speak with you both."

A panel at the foot of the statue withdrew, and a pale, sickly light shone up. The poor light gleamed off of the bones in the crypt, and a smell of dusty death wafted up.

Lucien walked down the steps into the earth, back straight, head bent, and completely focused on his task. I glanced around before ducking in. Luckily, the citizens of Bravil were elsewhere this evening.

When I reached the dirt floor, Lucien was already speaking.

"Night Mother, fair Mother of us all. If it is your will, strike me down where I stand, for I offer my soul to Sithis, should he desire it." He knelt, and laid his blade at the feet of the wispy apparition, bowing his head.

I stood back, watching closely, heart pounding in my chest. I felt clammy at a sudden, unbidden thought-_what if the Night Mother tells me to slaughter Lucien, to prove my faithfulness to her?_ I felt ill.

Her dark eyes shot out at me. "Nay, Anoriel, I would not ask that of you." She laid a translucent hand on Lucien's head. "Many have prayed for the death of my son; but he is too precious to me." She caressed Lucien's brow through his hood. He remained motionless.

She turned her attention back to Lucien. "I did not wish you dead, dear son," she said, "for that was the hasty and paranoid council of the diminished Black Hand. Had they given you and Anoriel time, all would have been fine. If they had sought me out, all would have been fine. Most, however, have paid the price for their foolishness, courtesy of Anoriel." I shifted uneasily. "There is only one remaining who has angered me, and you, Lucien, shall still her heart." The Night Mother smiled coldly, her old face wavering in the mist while her dark eyes remained steady.

"Rise, child, for you have retained your honor, and checked your vengeance, even when it was just to release it." Lucien stood up, re-sheathing his blade. "You have long been the Master of the Cheydinhal sanctuary, and that duty you will keep." The apparition smiled. "And because of my gratitude, you shall have your vengeance. Go to Cheydinhal, and slay Arquen, for her haste endangered us all. Send the rest of the children in the Sanctuary to the keep in the Imperial City, for you will not be there to attend to them after you have finished."

Lucien grew pale, and his lips tightened, but he did not speak.

"After you have finished, travel with my Listener to her other duties. For if the Empire falls, the Brotherhood falls with it. You two are the most dangerous assassins that walk these lands, and you shall aid Anoriel and the Empire. If all goes well, and Oblivion is harnessed, then will the Cheydinhal sanctuary be reopened, under your command. Then we shall restart the process of restoring the Black Hand, for I need more sons and daughters that I can trust."

The Night Mother turned toward me.

"Dear Listener, you outrank Lucien now. However, remember your Teacher; he who made you what you are today. Honour him; be his companion, and assist him with his Brotherhood duties."  
I nodded.

"I speak to both of you now. A bond of love grows between you. I am pleased when the blood-bonds of the family deepen. Unless the future changes greatly, or you fail in your task for the Empire, I shall not separate you." I blushed under this blunt assessment, but Lucien remained completely focused on the Night Mother. "You are equal in my eyes; Anoriel who rode to Lucien, and Lucien who rode to Anoriel. May Sithis guide you both, and protect you, so that you may return to his service. Leave me now, dear Listener and Speaker, and seek your revenge."

Lucien bowed deeply and turned to leave, dust from the crypt floor wafting around his boots.

"Night Mother," I said, "who shall I communicate the contracts to?"

"There will be no contracts while you are gone, dear Listener," said the Night Mother softly. "My Family must be kept safe while the Daedra roam. Because of this, I hope for your speedy return. Go now."

I bowed, and turned to follow Lucien up the steps. We left the dim crypt and its stink of wet earth, and the panel closed behind us, leaving us in the dark center of Bravil. I looked at Lucien, but he said nothing as he looked back at me.

He reached out, took my hand, and started walking back to the inn.

--

"Shears. Pewter spoon. Thread. Candle. Small dagger...no, too big. Knife. Preferably pewter. Very sharp," came a voice from the other side of the cupboard. There was a splash of water. "Wrist irons and rope! Yes, definitely. Fire poison. Oooh, that's good. Is there fire poison? As in, makes your guts burn?"

"I can't say I've heard of it, Lucien," I answered. "Do you always plot in the bathtub?"

"Needle!" There was an excited splash.

I eyed the water coursing under the cupboard. "You're flooding the room, you ass."

Cackling.

Brown eyes suddenly appeared over the cupboard. "Do you have wrist irons? It's always a pain to steal from prison."

"Raminus Polus has them," I sighed. "Along with all my other things."

"I shall murder him," Lucien chortled happily. He was rubbing a towel over his hair.

"You will do no such thing," I said. I stretched out in bed, already under the covers. I had pulled the sheets up to my chin, because no respectable assassin carries a pair of pajamas, and my underwear would have to do. I was trying to focus on a book-_The Lusty Argonian Maid_, which Methredhel had recommended-but I was distracted by Lucien's jabbering.

"Do you think Raminus Polus knows how to make a gut burning potion?" inquired Lucien. "If he does, perhaps I will spare his miserable life."

I put the book over my face in exasperation. He had been going on like this for an hour.

I heard bare feet slapping on the stone floor, and peeked over the edge of the book. Lucien was dressed in only his underwear, and was closely examining the dinnerware on the table. "Yes, pewter knife and spoon, very good!" He dumped them into his pack. "Needle, needle, where in the hell do they sell needles?" He rummaged through the cupboard. "Shears! Candle...very good!" He continued dumping his loot into his pack.

I busted out laughing.

Lucien whirled around. "What?" he asked distractedly.

"Oh, you know, assassins in their underwear collecting junk from cupboards," I laughed. "Quite cheerily, I may add."

He put his hands on his hips and looked at me sternly, unconcerned with his exposure. "Young lady, I regret to inform you I did not bring pajamas."

"I bet you have interesting pajamas," I continued, wobbling into uncertain territory. "You know, all black with a hatch in the back and footies, and a big Black Hand stamped on the front!" I roared with laughter, picturing a footie-d Lucien padding around Fort Farragut, making poisons. Tears started in my eyes.

Lucien tried to stop his face from twisting into a grin, but was unsuccessful. "Hatch in the back, by Sithis," he snorted. His eyes narrowed and closed in on the book's title. "_The Lusty Argonian Maid_? What sort of rubbish are you reading?"

"Methredhel gave it to me."

"Yes, yes, it's always Methredhel." He came around to the side of the bed. "I must see this." He pulled back the covers and started to slip into bed, but stopped. "Dear Silencer!" he exclaimed in exaggerated wonder. "You have no pajamas, either!"

"Oh, stop," I said, pulling the covers up.

Lucien grinned devilishly and burrowed under the sheets. "Tonight," he declared, "I will have wonderful dreams filled with blood and gore. With ropes of entrails, and eyes popped out of their sockets, and hearts carved out of chests!" He flopped around happily in bed, getting comfortable. His eyes were lit with a bloodthirsty light, and he licked his lips as he settled.

I turned my head to the right to look at him. "Will you let me play as well? I want to kill her."

"You may have a minor role," he said grandly. "But really, Silencer, the fun belongs to me, by right. Blood and gore! Blood splashing the walls, and running to the floor!"

"Indeed it does," I said, turning back to the book. He was beginning to give me a headache.

Lucien scooted up, resting his back against the headboard. His dark hair was loose and a little wavy from its air-drying, and he ran a hand through it. My traitorous eyes wandered from the pages to his physique. _Well, the gray in the hair does not match the body! _I focused very hard on the words on the page. "Oh, I cannot wait to get started," he cooed, burrowing around in the bed some more.

I saw Lucien's cheek rise in a smile from the corner of my eye. He scooted next to me, and put one arm around my shoulders. I gripped the book so hard I felt the cover bending under my fingers. His hand grew tight on my shoulder, and his arm curled as he rolled me sideways to face him. I still clung to the book. The sheets slid down to my waist, leaving me in only my bra and his arms. He smiled broadly. "I get a bit randy when there's murder coming up," he said. He stroked my hair, and tilted my face up to look at him. We were still separated by _The Lusty Argonian Maid._

"Drop the fetching book already, Anoriel," he said.

I placed it behind me on the nightstand.

The silky emerald coverlet whispered as he shifted, moving his body next to mine. He cradled me around my neck with one arm, and stroked my shoulder with the other.

His brown eyes gleamed. "Happy with the Night Mother's decision, dear girl?"

"I am," I swallowed. He was incredibly close to me...and I was incredibly taken by him.

"I am as well; I am pleased that we shall remain together," he said, his gaze drifting downwards. One finger traced the line of my jaw, and his thumb moved back and forth over my lips. "Why do you look so afraid?" His hand opened and slid down my neck to my collarbone.

"Fear of what is to come, I suppose...and fear of what is happening."

"You feel you don't know me well enough."

I hesitated. "I don't like to be rude, but yes."

"No, it's not rude," he said thoughtfully. His hand moved lightly, as if testing the waters, over my breast. "I would be disappointed if you stopped being honest."

I reached up tentatively and put my hand over his. _In bed with Lucien!_

Lucien smiled softly, and gave a little squeeze. His other arm slid out from behind me, and he rolled over on top of me. "Say stop, whenever you wish, dear girl. It is fine. I was more thinking of just taking a small taste of you, if you must know."

I smiled at him, comforted.

He curled his arms beneath my back, gathering me to him. He laid his forehead against mine, black hair making a curtain around my vision. All I could see was his face, and I smiled.

He gave me little kisses on my forehead and cheeks, and I could feel his lips smiling as he did so. His hands reached out and cupped the back of my head, and he lowered part of his weight onto me gently. I arched my back, pressing into him, and wrapped my arms over his back. He kissed my chin, and whispered, "Look at me."

I opened my eyes and looked into those great brown eyes.

With his gaze fixed upon me, he raised his face just a little, and gave tiny nibbles to my lower lip. My heart was thundering as he pulled back a little and smiled. His cupped hands raised my face to him, and finally, my trembling lips were brought to his.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lucien started gently, soft little smashes of our lips; a quiet, wet velvet exploration. Gradually, he let my head fall back against the pillow, supporting himself with his elbows. He caressed my hair and neck, and easily pushed apart my lips with his own, his tongue sliding into my mouth cautiously. I opened my mouth wide, meeting him with vigor, and he sighed into my mouth. His breathing became low and steady; a faint rumble inside my head as he lashed at me with his tongue. Either hours or seconds passed, and my mind hung suspended in warm rapture.

My hand slid up his back and took hold of his hair, pulling his head back. His eyes closed as I leaned up and kissed his stubbly jaw, and nibbled on his ear, and slowly slid down his neck. A smile spread across his lips as I kicked a leg around him, hanging onto his body while I tasted his neck. We slid into that world where every touch is silk and shocking, every thrum of blood in the veins is a desperate call for more, more, more; where the hands cannot move fast enough, but one wishes that they would simply stay still; where explorations of the flesh rival even breathing for importance.

He opened his eyes and blew out a breath as I raised my hips to him. I released his hair, and his head dropped to between my breasts, kissing and licking. I raised my hips again; and he answered by grinding down on me. A sharp little moan flew out of my mouth, and he cruelly yanked my hair, bringing my head to the side and kissing my neck hard, his five o' clock shadow scratching the tender skin there. "You will be with me, Silencer," he murmured against my neck. "I claim you as mine," he growled.

Lucien started a piston motion with his hips, pressing down on me as he sucked on my neck. His hands gripped my shoulders, locking me into place beneath him. I wrapped my hands in his hair, and sighed into his ear, twisting under him. I felt him rising, and the insistence of his body's need to explore inflamed me. I clung to him, and kissed all over his face hungrily, my hands sliding down to squeeze those fighter's arms.

He raised his head to look at me, eyes wide and feverish. "Anoriel," he breathed heavily, "if we are going to stop, we must do it now...I cannot tempt myself any further." Small dashes of sweat shone at his hairline.

I wrapped both legs around him, kissed him, and said, "Yes, we must stop, Lucien."

He moaned into my mouth, shoving his tongue in roughly, and sucking on my bottom lip as he pulled away. His color was high and his eyes were glassy, wrapped up in the warm softness of desire. He rolled off of me, turning on his side toward me, and gathered me up to him. I nuzzled into his chest; listening to his breathing slow and his heart steady.

I held onto his powerful arms, and he kissed my forehead. "I will indeed sleep well tonight, dear girl," he whispered. "However, you may have robbed me of my dreams of blood and gore."

I smiled into his chest. "Blow out the candles, Lucien; it has been more than a day and a half since you slept."

He obediently rolled over, snuffed out the candles, and took me in his arms again. I laid with him in the dark room, my eyes growing heavy with sleep, and my body drunken and quivering from desire. The sounds from the inn downstairs gradually grew further and further away, as I drifted off to sleep nestled in the crook of his arm.

--

Lucien was eating breakfast when I awoke, the sun streaming in through the window. I shifted painfully, muscles curled up. I must have slept without turning all night; contentedly dreaming in his embrace.

He was already dressed, sword sheathed at his side. "I am glad I caught you before I left," he said. "I have to do some shopping, but it shouldn't take long."

I looked at him blearily. "Coffee?" I said hopefully.

He moved to hand me a steaming mug as I sat up in bed. I grasped it gratefully, and inhaled the steam coming off. _The pleasures of adventurers do not often include coffee in the morning, _I thought wistfully. _Or good looking men._

He sat down on the bed next to me as I sipped, and combed my hair with his fingers. "Do you know," he said, a mischievous smile starting in his face, "that you talk in your sleep?"

"Yes," I grunted, hoping to sound sufficiently ill-tempered to head off this train of thought.

But his bloodlusty cheer was not to be denied. "You must have been dreaming about that obnoxious Bosmer, for I have never heard such a stunning array of profanity."

"Why, thank you," I grunted again, sounding anything but grateful. "It is a talent of mine."

"Anyway," he continued, "I need to gather some things. Is an hour and a half enough for you to be ready? My errands should not take long."

"That's plenty," I said.

"Good," Lucien replied. "Meet me at the stables, then, and we will be off to Cheydinhal."

I nodded.

He rose, and stretched. He bent down to kiss me, and licked my lips. "Secondhand coffee," he murmured. "The very best kind." With a smile, he went out the door.

I laid in bed for a while, sipping the coffee and thinking about the previous night. I could detect a change in him, now that the cares were lifted from his shoulders and his path laid clear. I felt better as well, knowing he would be with me, when I went to face the malicious red light of Oblivion again. I set the coffee cup down on the nightstand and cuddled my pillow thoughtfully. _I believe that the days of uncertainty are over,_ I thought. _There will be no more walls between he and I.  
_  
The hour and a half passed quickly as I dressed and ate. As I left the inn, the innkeeper gestured me over. "I saw your friend leave early this morning," he whispered, distressed. "I hope he is not disrespecting the Lady."

I smiled. "He had errands to run, friend. I am going to meet him now."

The innkeeper looked relieved. "Fare you well, Lady Anoriel, and may the Nine be with you."

I bowed, smiled at him, and exited to the sunny street.

Shadowmere was chomping away at hay when I found her, and I stroked her great flanks. "We shall ride fast today, Shadowmere," I told her. Her ears laid back against her head, and she whinnied. I turned and saw Lucien approaching, his pack clanking on his shoulder. Wrist irons.

"Ready?" he asked, grinning widely.

I mounted Shadowmere as he went to his white horse. "Lead on, Teacher," I said. "Show me how far blood will spray."

--

We moved cautiously outside the abandoned house. Dusk crept over Cheydinhal.

"Remember the plan," whispered Lucien.

"I would not rob you of your schemings," I answered.

He gave me a smile, and nodded. Time to start.

I popped the cover from the well, and slid down the ladder into the Sanctuary. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, and I saw that the main room was quiet. Arquen was nowhere to be seen. I moved quietly, gliding toward the table and bookcases where a Murderer sat reading. He looked up, and a big smile started on his face. "Listener!" he said gladly. "It is an honor-"

"Stop," I said quietly, placing a gloved hand over his mouth. "Where is Arquen?"

"She is bathing," he whispered.

"Excellent." I smiled cruelly. "How long has she been in there?"

"Maybe ten minutes, Listener."

"Dear Murderer, you are about to witness a great change. I need you to collect your brothers and sisters-except for Arquen-and bring them here, to the main room, to me. Do it quietly. I do not want her to hear you." The Murderer struggled to keep the questions off of his face, and I calmed him. "Trust your Listener. My orders come from the Night Mother."

He nodded, and quietly got up, slipping into the training room.

I moved over to the well, and sent up a low whistle. Lucien removed the cover carefully, slinking down the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he looked at me with intensity. "Where is she?"

"Bathing. She's been in there for ten minutes. I am gathering the others in this room; you should set up while I speak to them and watch for her." Lucien nodded, and swiftly moved to the center of the room, where he pushed four small tables together. He pulled out four lengths of rope, and four shackles, removing the hangings from the thick pillars and fastening the ropes to their hooks. He attached the shackles to the ropes, and laid them carefully on the table. I watched him work, fascinated by his concentration and finesse, as he moved with such grace and skill about the room. He laid his instruments out on another table, lighting a candle. I turned around as the Murderers crept out of the training room.

"Is this all of you?" I asked in a low voice. "Anyone out on a contract?"

"No, no contracts," said one of the girls. Her frightened eyes looked out over the tables and shackles, and eventually to Lucien, still knotting his ropes quickly. Her eyes opened wide, and a hand flew to her lips. I grasped her mouth with a hand. "Do not scream," I hissed.

"Oh, Listener," she moaned with fright, "the dead walk!"

"He is not dead. We are here to cleanse the Black Hand of its incompetence. Be quiet," I murmured.

Her big eyes looked at me with fear. "But Arquen said-"

I was losing my temper. "I know what that foul beast said, and I almost took her tongue for it," I snarled. "The Night Mother wishes her dead, and so it shall be. Not. Another. Word."

She nodded, still watching Lucien anxiously.

I looked at the Murderer who I had originally spoken to. "Listen outside Arquen's door," I instructed him. "When she empties her bath-water, come to me."

He nodded and crept off.

I approached Lucien. "Are they stilled?" he asked quietly.

"They are fine. How are you?"

He crossed his arms. "I am ready," he said. "I think I will work on the note until he gives the signal." Suddenly he smiled, looking over my shoulder. I turned, and saw the Dark Guardian had caught sight of him. His axe clattered audibly in his hand, rattling against his bony fingers. Lucien moved over swiftly, and spoke quiet words to him. The skeleton seemed to grin, and Lucien settled at the table by the bookcases, writing speedily.

I approached the Murderers. "Interference will result in death," I said.

"No, dear Listener, I trust you. It is the will of the Night Mother," said one. The other two shook their heads in agreement. Even the nervous girl seemed stilled.

"Very good," I whispered. "You will get a lesson today, a true professional in action. May he serve as inspiration to you."

They nodded. I stood quietly near them for a few minutes as Lucien wrote.

My helping Murderer careened around the bend. "Listener, she has emptied the water."

"Sithis bless you," I told him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Go stand with your brother and sisters, and wait."

I went to Lucien. "She is finished."

He nodded, and stood up. The candlelight flickered in his burning eyes. Leaving his note on the table, he swiftly slung one arm around my back, crushed his mouth against mine, and moved to stand in the hole in the wall under the well.

I faced the entrance to the hallway, perfectly still and waiting. I did not draw any weapon, nor remove the hood from my head. When I heard the stone door of Arquen's room creak open, I drew myself to my full height.

Booted footsteps came down the hall. I glanced at Lucien. He nodded at me, and I refocused my attention on the hall.

Arquen came around the corner, and saw me standing in the middle of the main room. Her lips twisted, barely covering disgust. "Dear Listener," she started. "What a pleasant surprise. But it has not yet been a week."

I stared at her for a moment. "I come on other business from the Night Mother today."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what other business is that?" I saw her hand opening and closing as she tried to remain civil.

"Your tribunal. Your judgment for the failure of the Black Hand, for the breaking of the Tenets, and the murder of Lucien Lachance."

Her mouth opened. "I have leave to break the Tenets, I am a Speaker!" She snarled. "Sithis knows I should be Listener, not you, lap-dog of Lucien." She spat on the floor.

A Murderer gasped.

"Why are you all clumped in the corner, like worthless chickens?" she bellowed.

I moved up close, right into her face. "You have no leave to break the Tenets in foolishness and haste," I spat. "Lap-dog that I am, even I know that. The rest of the Black Hand have paid for their idiocy. Now you shall."

Her lips twisted in rage. "I feasted on his guts," she sneered at me. "I scalped his hair off of his head, I yanked his teeth out, I sewed his lips shut." She grinned a gruesome smile at me. "It was worth it, whatever the Night Mother's judgment may be."

I leaned back. "Did you, now."

A shimmer in the air moved behind Arquen. Focused on me, she did not notice.

Lucien came into view too late for Arquen to move. His blade was against her throat, and his hand was deep in her hair, holding her head tight. She screamed in terror as she felt him behind her.

"Feast on my guts, did you?" roared Lucien. "Pull out my teeth?" He snapped her head back, snarling into her face. He ran his blade over the tip of her eyelid. "That is a good idea, you foul bitch!" He manhandled her to the table, and threw her down on her back. Clumps of her hair twined in his fingers, and I heard bones breaking at the force with which he threw her down. He held her shoulders down as I clamped the shackles on her wrist. Furious now, he took his blade, and drove it through her palm, nailing her hand to the table. She writhed in pain and bellowed. I moved down, clasping shackles around her ankles after pulling her boots off.

"I will send you to hell, with pleasure," snarled Lucien, moving to his table of instruments. I handed him the shears. He forced open her mouth with two hands, and I heard her jaw crack. One of the Murderers gasped in the corner. I looked over at them, and they were indeed clumped together like frightened chickens.

"Come forth," I beckoned them, "and witness the rage and power of the Black Hand."

They moved forward in a tight pack.

Lucien went into her mouth with surgical precision, snipping away. Her screams were muffled and wet, her eyes wide and fixed upon her tormentor. Lucien pulled his hand out, holding Arquen's tongue with two gloved fingers. "You will not be able to talk your way out of hell," he hissed, holding it over her eyes. He threw it onto the floor. I handed him the spoon. "You will not be able to see in hell," he snarled, shoving the spoon into her eye socket. One of the Murderers gagged. There was a wet pop, and then a second. His hand shoved her eyes into her throat. "You will not be able to feel your way out of hell," and he chopped all of her fingers off, in a flurry of bony crunches. These too went in her throat.

I handed him the knife. We worked in one fluid motion, the plan well rehearsed; and the hatred and anger binding us in this gruesome task.

He leaned over her, making a deep incision down the length of her torso. He reached down into her body cavity with one hand, and came up with a rope of intestines. "Open her wide, Anoriel," he instructed. I pulled apart her skin and muscle; and Lucien leaned over her. From his hand came a flare of a fireball, and he shot it deep into her organs. A thick stinking smoke rose up, and her body convulsed, writhing in agony.

Lucien looked up at the clump of Murderers. "I did this all wrong," he said regretfully. "I should have saved her tongue for last, so she could beg." Their eyes were as big as saucers, and they nodded fearfully._ At this point, they would agree with him if he said grass was pink,_ I thought. I chuckled to myself blackly.

He turned back to Arquen, and shoved her entrails down her throat. I heard her coughing and gagging, but he pushed ever deeper. The few parts of her face not covered in blood were turning blue, and I heard the delicate front bones of her neck snapping. "Feast on the entrails," he snarled. "Since you like them so much, eat them!"

"She will die soon," I said.

"Yes, I doubt she is even conscious," sighed Lucien. "It is always over too quickly. Needle and thread."

As I threaded the needle, he packed her blade into her body cavity, ripping it around inside. He took the needle, and sewed the incision quickly. Her body continued to spasm in pain with each prick of the needle.

Lucien picked up the knife, and, making shallow delicate strokes, scalped her. He took the head of hair, and forced that down her throat as well. The feathers of hair hanging out of her mouth did not move, and in that way, we knew that her breathing had ceased, and she was dead.

"Bring me a washbasin," I said to no Murderer in particular. My helper scurried off, and came back bearing a bucket.

As I washed my hands, Lucien spoke to the Murderers. He fixed them in a riveting gaze, his voice deep and rich. "I am Lucien Lachance, Speaker of the Black Hand. I am the Master of this Sanctuary, and those who would do me harm will come to an end such as this, and swiftly. Arquen was false, power-hungry, and defied the safeguards of Sithis. She has been executed according to the Night Mother's wishes. Now, there is a note on the table. Take that note with you to the safe haven in the Imperial City, and present it to the Master of the Hall. It is sealed with my stamp and your Listener's, so the Master will recognize it." He paused. "The Cheydinhal sanctuary is now closed for a time, for the Listener and I have much to do. Go to the Imperial City, and remain there. Practice your skills. There will be no contracts for a while."

I passed the bucket to Lucien. "I promote you all to Slayers," I said. "The note says so. Bring news of these happenings to the Imperial City, and let the Brotherhood know that Lucien still walks the earth with Anoriel. Practice hard, Slayers; for there will be a great need for Silencers in the upcoming weeks." I paused. "Lucien or I will come to collect you when we re-open the Sanctuary here. The Dark Guardian will remain, but take Schemer with you. If he dies, there will be hell to pay." I was particularly attached to the rat.

Lucien spoke again, shaking the water from his hands. "There have been great changes, and there will still be more to come. Anoriel and I thank you for your trust and cooperation. Now go, children of Sithis, with the blessing of the Night Mother upon you." They all bowed and turned to go.

"For the love of Sithis, you forgot the rat already," I said in exasperation. My helper scooped up Schemer, who was sniffing contentedly at Lucien's boots while nibbling away at Arquen's tongue. "Bloodthirsty rat," I said as the Murderers clumped out the door, doubtlessly whispering and shocked. "Whatever happened to cheese?"

Lucien smiled. "Good rat."

Lucien and I wiped off our hands, and I walked around the Sanctuary, extinguishing the torches and candles. He was disposing of his instruments when I returned, a torch in my hand.

"What shall we do with the body?"

Lucien looked thoughtful. "Eh," he said. "The Guardian gets hungry, I suppose."

I started laughing. "You are disgusting," I said.

He smiled brilliantly. "It's art, dear Anoriel." He surveyed the empty Sanctuary. "I am refreshed and ready. Now what do we do?"

"We go to retrieve the Amulet of Kings."

Lucien looked mildly surprised. "Oh, is that all? After that, perhaps, we storm the Imperial Palace and steal the Elder Scrolls? Or perhaps blow up the Arcane University? You certainly have a way of communicating difficult news."

"It is not far from here," I told him. "We shall be there before midnight."

"Lead on, Anoriel," he said, and reached up to open the well grate.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

"It's got to be around here somewhere," I grumbled. "This map is terrible."

"When we see them, Anoriel, perhaps we should tell them they need a big blinking sign that says 'Dagon Cultists This Way,'" yawned Lucien.

"Nothing," I continued, "is more annoying than being all jittery and excited about something, and then getting lost. But you know what? I am not lost. It is this fetching map that is lost...You really can't be tired, Lucien!"

"I'm all right." Lucien straightened in the saddle. "It's just so dark."

It was indeed dark. Twilight had long since passed, and as we had closed in on the area surrounding Lake Arrius Caverns, we went slowly and cautiously. I had no idea of the force the Mythic Dawn could have assembled at their base, so we moved in stealth. Even the horses' hooves were muffled in the tall grass. A light wind blew, carrying on it howls of wolves from the east.

Lucien leaned forward, straining his eyes. "I think I see torchlight, Anoriel."

I hustled Shadowmere next to him, the high grass rustling. "I see it as well," I whispered. "Let's ride a bit closer."

We passed through a dell like shadows, the horses quiet. Lucien and I were both swathed in our Black Hand robes, and the stars gave off no revealing light. Dismounting, I whispered to Shadowmere, telling her to stay put. With a hand signal, I gestured to Lucien to follow me up a short hill. We peeked out from behind a rock at the man with the torch.

"Well," whispered Lucien, "we found a guy with a torch."

"He's Mythic Dawn," I whispered back. "See the burgundy robe?"

"That's what they wear, eh? So what's the plan?"

I shifted, laying flat in the high grass. "We go in, find a man named Mankar Camoran. He's the leader of the cultists. Martin thinks he has the Amulet of Kings. So we go in, hack him up, take the Amulet, and go back to Martin."

Lucien looked at me through the grass. "Do you know how many are in there?"

"No idea."

"I hope there's a lot," he grinned. "Arquen only whetted my appetite."

"I bet you'll get your wish," I whispered. I reached behind me, loosening Shadowhunt and fitting an ebony arrow to the bow. I raised into a crouching position, and took aim. The man was fairly still, only occasionally shifting on one leg. I let the arrow fly.

"Oh," sighed Lucien, "you hit him in the eye. That is beautiful."

"Let's creep up there, and see what we can see."

Lucien and I moved up to the door. He listened for a minute, ear pressed against the wood, while I searched the body.

"Key," I breathed.

Lucien smiled and drew his ebony blade. "Well," he said quietly, "let's steal some jewelry."

I pushed the key into the lock, and opened the door. We slunk in, and peeked around the corner. There was one more man inside, sitting at a table. I started to fit my bow again, but my foot slipped on a loose rock. Pebbles tumbled, and the man looked up.

"Hail, lady," smiled the man. "Are you here for the service? Mankar Camoran is about to begin. If you'll just put on this robe, I'll take you right back. You can leave your things in the chest here." His smile had turned forceful at my silence.

I hesitated. "I do not wish to leave my things."

The door warden's eyes narrowed. "It's procedure. Who are you, anyway?"

I sighed. "Forget it." I raised a hand, as if in a parting gesture-but instead pounded him with an expert level shock spell. His face only had a few seconds to register surprise before he was blown against the wall, dead.

"I think," Lucien said quietly, "you may have just blown our cover."

Hearing the screams and feet pounding down the cave hall towards us, I switched out my bow for Sufferthorn. "Yep."

Lucien and I moved into battle stance, bracing for the onslaught. Three Mythic Dawn agents came flying down the hall, spells starting in their hands. I rolled one arm back, and threw Sufferthorn through the neck of the first. Lucien charged at the next, slicing off the casting hand with a powerful slash of his blade. I was down on the floor, recovering Sufferthorn, and I swung around, driving the blade deep into the back of the third's neck as he moved toward Lucien.

Finishing off his target, Lucien said, "If they don't wear armor, it's really too easy, Anoriel." Some of his victim's blood was splashed along his jaw.

"I guess they could summon armor," I replied, wiping the blood off my blade, "but they don't seem very adept."

We stood listening for a moment. "It's quiet," Lucien said. "I suppose they're all wherever the ritual is being held."

"Let's go find out where that is," I said, and started moving down the hall.

There were no more Mythic Dawn agents in sight as we moved through the winding passages. They were well lit by torchlight, and hangings covered the walls. The packed dirt floor was uneven; stones occasionally jutted up, and I stubbed my toe several times. "Really, Anoriel," said Lucien, "you promised me a big fight. Three guys in robes do not count." He reached out to open a door. "We might as well have sent Schemer-"

We were suddenly peering into the ritual chamber, up on a wide ledge. It was tall, with a massive statue of Mehrunes Dagon upon the dais. Directly below him, three figures were engaged in reading from a book. I took a quick count. There were at least fifteen Mythic Dawn agents below us, seated and entranced by the ritual, but the three on our ledge took immediate notice of us. Mankar Camoran stood below on the altar, heedless of us and preaching. For now.

With a terrible scream, one of the agents rushed at us. The other two drew blades and barreled along the ledge. Camoran stopped in midsentence, looking up. His audience swiveled around, scanning upwards.

Immediately Lucien rushed the nearest agent. His blade was singing as he drew it out.

"I'm going for Camoran!" I yelled to him, leaping from the ledge. The audience was in an uproar, some running, some summoning armor and weapons, most dazed in the pandemonium. I shoved through the crowd, slashing at anyone in my way. But my eyes were on Camoran as I broke free of the crowd and ran toward the altar.

Camoran whirled and raised his hand. A great fiery portal opened, roaring as it burst into existence in front of the towering statue of Mehrunes Dagon. With a hatefully fierce look at me, he dashed through the portal. I mounted the altar steps, heedless of the crowd noise and arrows whistling near my head, determined to grab him. Camoran disappeared into the world beyond the portal, and it closed with a great sucking sound behind him.

"Oh, damn it!" I screamed, blade lowering. Camoran was gone, and the Amulet of Kings with him. He had been wearing it on the altar, its great stone flickering in the firelight.

A pain exploded in my thigh. Looking down, I saw a glass arrow lodged in my leg. My eyes locked onto Lucien. He was in danger of being overwhelmed. Five agents were rushing towards me.

"This," I muttered, "has gone to hell."

Pulling the arrow out with one hand, I summoned a zombie with the other. He took off towards the fight moaning, swaying with his lumbering walk. Lips pulled back in a grimace, hood fallen off my head, I blasted the crowd with a fireball. Lucien had killed the last of the agents on the ledge, and was hacking his way toward me. I sent two more bursts of flame into the crowd. Three of the agents coming toward me fell, but two more were still racing for the altar. Bracing, I cast an absorb health spell, and one of the agents melted to the floor as the wound in my leg closed. My zombie smacked the last one hard on the head, and I heard a sharp crack of bone.

I jumped off the altar, heading for Lucien. "To Lucien!" I yelled at the zombie. He looked at me, drooling and dazed. _Next time, summon something intelligent!_

I saw a dismembered head shoot through the air from Lucien's right, and he was raging as he dispatched the agents. His sword flung smacking lines of blood against the walls, and he let loose a primal roar as he finished off an agent. I stabbed Sufferthorn hard into a cultist's back, who was wielding a mace and aiming for Lucien. Switching gears, I blasted another with shock. He was thrown back against a rock, neck snapping. Lucien brought down his blade ferociously on top of the last agent, slicing his body with a wet rip.

"Anyone else?" he panted, scanning the room.

"Not that I can see in here," I panted back. "We lost the damn Amulet! Did you see him go through that portal?"

"That was no Oblivion gate," he said, wiping blood from a cut on his forehead. His cloak was torn, and one forearm spilled blood. I leaned back against the wall.

"Give me a minute, and I can heal you, Lucien."

He nodded, checking over his blade for notches. Rummaging in my pack, I found a Restore Magicka potion, and drank it down. Dropping the pink bottle, I laid a hand on Lucien and spoke words of healing.

It took four castings, but finally his wounds closed. I sat on a bench, exhausted, letting my magic regenerate.

"Now," I said wearily. "About that big battle that you wanted."

Lucien was arranging his hair that had fallen loose, growing crusty with the blood from his forehead. "Thanks," he said, pulling the hair back into a ponytail and out of his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, testing his muscles.

"Okay," I said, getting up wearily. "I'm going to check over the altar." Lucien stood, and followed me up to the platform.

"Anoriel," he said, alarmed, "did you see this guy here?"

I spun around. "Oh, gods, are you all right?" An Argonian was strapped to a table on the altar, blood running down his face. Lucien and I started undoing his bonds, and the Argonian coughed. "Who are you?"

"I belong," he said haltingly, "in the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. Camoran," he continued, "was going to sacrifice me."

We helped him up. "Can you walk?" I asked.

"I can," he replied. "There are more here, I saw some run off," he said, and pointed at a wall.

"Let me heal you," I said, holding his arm.

"No, dear girl, I know spells," he croaked. "I just want to get out of here. If you ever return to the Imperial City, find me, and I will thank you."

He staggered off of the altar in his tattered monk's robe. Lucien and I watched him go.

"Human sacrifice," I murmured. "This is bad, Lucien!"

Lucien was examining the ground where the portal had been. He did not answer as he eyed the stone floor, lips pursed in thought.

I checked over the dais. There was an odd book on the altar. I picked it up. "Lucien," I started, but my eyes were drawn upwards.

"Lucien! Move!" I roared, and he looked up as the statue of Mehrunes Dagon started to crumble.

He grabbed my arm as he jumped out of the way, pulling us both off the dais. We landed hard against the floor, and there was a colossal rumbling as the statue collapsed. We scooted under the stone benches, covering our heads as rubble crashed around us. The dust was thick as we inched out, once all was quiet.

Our Black Hand robes were covered with powdery white debris. Lucien coughed, and I wiped the muck out of my eyes with dusty fingers. I shook my head and a cloud of dust rose. Covered in the powder, Lucien looked pale enough to be a vampire, with great dark eyes shocking against the white face.

I spat out some dust. "Mysterium Xarxes?"

Lucien leaned over my shoulder, opening the book. "It's all gibberish." He turned it upside down, stared at it for a moment, and shrugged. "I have no idea what any of this is."

"It's runes," I said, squinting at it, "but I don't know what it means. I guess we should take it, and give it to Martin."

"Okay," said Lucien, unsheathing his blade again, "let's go. I do believe I've had enough of this."

The gate nearby was sealed shut, and the ledge we had come through was too high to jump. Our only choice was the exit the Argonian had gone through. We entered cautiously.

It opened into more caverns, lit by torchlight. A few torn scraps of burgundy cloth were on the floor, remnants of the escaping Dawn agents. We left behind the high, echoing ritual chamber, dust from the crumbled statue rising in the unnatural light.

Lucien was in front of me, and he switched out his sword for a Daedric bow. I peered around him, and saw an unsuspecting agent standing in a narrow bedchamber. Lucien fitted an arrow to the string and let fly, killing the agent in one hit. We crept through the chamber; and I looked around, hoping to find anything else of significance to bring to Martin. Heads swinging side to side, we snuck onwards, Lucien occasionally dispatching an agent quietly with his bow and arrows.

Suddenly Lucien stood up. "We've been here before," he said. "Look, do you recognize that wall hanging?"

I did. It was smeared with blood.

"We're almost out," I said.

The cave was silent as we crept onwards. We saw no sign of anyone alive. "I think," whispered Lucien, "we have conducted a Purification."

I nodded. "There's the door."

"Hang on!" said Lucien, moving toward the doorwarden's chest. "I want to see if there's anything worthwhile in here."

We opened the chest together. It was a pile of worn, low quality armor and rusted blades.

"That was disappointing," I said. "Twenty or thirty people killed, and not a bit of loot!"

We opened the cavern door and stepped out. Scanning the area, I said, "Let's get the horses and go to Martin. We should be there by sunrise."

Lucien nodded, and we started back toward the dell in haste.

--

Cloud Ruler Temple was gleaming in the early morning light as Lucien and I dismounted. We left the horses in the small courtyard next to the steps. We tiredly climbed the stairs; their wide bases hard on our sore feet. As we reached the top, I looked at the Blades-some were spread out training, there were the ever-present two at the watchtower, and two at the door.

I walked toward the door. "Hello, Captain Steffan," I said wearily. "Is Martin inside?"

"Yes, Lady, he is in the great hall." Steffan looked at Lucien. "Anoriel," he said sternly, "who have you brought to the sanctuary of the Blades?"

"This is my companion," I said, not wanting to release the secret of Lucien's Brotherhood involvement. Or mine, for that matter. "He helped me at Lake Arrius Caverns. Now, Steffan, we just want to-"

The door to my right flew open. "Anoriel!" growled Jauffre as he came barreling out the door. "Who is this man? You can't bring this man here!" Steffan and the other Blade crossed their swords across the front door, barring mine and Lucien's way. "Who are you, sir?" asked Jauffre, turning toward Lucien.

"I am Lucien Lachance," he said. He stuck out his hand for a handshake.

I groaned inwardly.

"And what is your business?" asked Jauffre warily.

"I am Anoriel's companion."

"I meant besides that," rumbled Jauffre.

"I am part of a Brotherhood. Perhaps you have heard of us. I am a Speaker for the Black Hand," said Lucien. He stuck out his hand again.

A moment of stunned silence. Then, all across the courtyard, I heard swords ringing as they were whipped out of their sheaths.

Jauffre's mouth fell open. Lucien kept his hand extended. "I don't see why that's such an issue," said Lucien smoothly. "Considering Anoriel is the Listener. Now, it's rude for you to leave me standing here with my hand out, so why don't you shake my hand?" He smiled forcefully. It was not entirely pleasant.

"Holy shit," mumbled Steffan.

"Anoriel!" roared Jauffre. "You lead the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Just on the side, you know," I mumbled.

Lucien looked at me, aghast. "On the _side_?" His hand was still extended toward Jauffre.

"Oh, Mara." I put my hand to my forehead in exasperation.

"The Brotherhood didn't murder my father," said a quiet voice from my left.

All heads swung around.

"No! No!" cried Jauffre, leaping toward Martin. "Keep these assassins away from the Emperor! Blades!"

Everyone in the courtyard started for Lucien and me. Steffan looked at me, regret in his eyes. Lucien finally decided he wasn't going to get his handshake, and withdrew his hand. I wrapped a hand around his arm, and backed up next to him.

Lucien's tired eyes looked at me, red rimmed and heavy. "Will we fight, Anoriel?" Steffan was moving closer to me. I held up a hand as if to ward them off.

"Do not touch him, or I will take down as many of you as I can," I growled in warning. _He has been taken from me once. No one will take him from me again. Blades and Emperor be damned._

"The Emperor commands you to stop. Sheath your blades!" commanded Martin.

I relaxed my hand on Lucien's arm, but still held onto him protectively.

Martin walked over, feet quiet in the light dusting of snow. "Anoriel," he started, "I am ashamed of your welcome."

Jauffre was quivering.

"Apparently the Blades only know titles, and not who a person is," said Martin. "They do not remember the bravery of this Lady." He looked around with angry eyes, though his voice was gentle. "I care not if you head the Brotherhood. I care not if you bring a party of Atronachs. I care not if you bring the entire Black Hand!" He rose his voice. "Anoriel and her companion are always welcome. Do you hear?"

The Blades responded with one voice. "Yes, Your Highness!"

"Now. Welcome Anoriel; I see that battle lays heavily upon you. And welcome, Lucien. I, for one, will shake your hand." Martin shook with Lucien, and Lucien smiled a weary smile. "You also seem tired, good sir. Did you accompany Anoriel to the caverns?"

"I did," responded Lucien.

"Martin," I interrupted. He turned his bright blue eyes on me, dirty-blonde hair waving in the light breeze. "Martin, Camoran escaped. With the Amulet of Kings."

"How?" asked Martin. His face fell.

"He opened a portal," I answered. "We caught him in the middle of a ritual. He disappeared and closed it as I was running towards him. All I could find," I continued, "was this book." I offered him the _Mysterium Xarxes._

Martin took it carefully. "This is an evil book," he shuddered. "I can feel it coming through the binding. Let's go inside, Anoriel; and you can eat and drink while we talk."

He turned and walked past Steffan, and Lucien and I followed him into Cloud Ruler Temple.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Lucien stripped off his torn cloak, and pulled his hood off. He laid down exhausted on the wide double bed, sighing as he hit the fine satin coverlet. I stood at the sink, rinsing the grime of Dagon's statue off of my face. I dried myself with a towel, and then stripped down and got into bed next to him.

Under Jauffre's orders, Lucien and I were to stay in Martin's room. It was the most isolated of the rooms, and the Nord guard outside the door would keep a constant watch of our comings and goings. For now, Lucien was to stay by my side. Jauffre's nerves needed to calm and Martin needed to work his diplomatic magic before we could have any freedom of movement inside the Temple. Martin had no objection at all to us in his room; he had said that he only wished he could make us more comfortable.

"It's cold up here," Lucien shivered. "I'm going to start a fire in the fireplace."

"That's fine," I said, stretching out. The bright light reflecting off the snow lit up the room. I groaned and stuck my head under the pillow. "It's too bright to sleep."

Lucien looked back at me from the fireplace, where he had started a bit of kindling. "It is awfully bright," he said wearily. Finishing with the fire, he slid into bed next to me. His skin was cold, and I put my arms around him as he pushed his face into my hair.

We stayed like that for a while, Lucien's body gradually growing warmer. I was drowsy from the heat of the fireplace and the softness of the bed and pillows.

"Do you think," Lucien said, rolling onto his back, "Martin will really be able to translate that book?" Over breakfast with Martin, he had announced his intention to crack the code of the _Mysterium Xarxes._ When we left him, he had been poring over the book, silent through most of the meal while the Blades looked on with unrestrained anxiety.

I rolled my head to the side to look at him. "He said he experimented with Daedra worship in his youth," I said. "He has a bit of background in it, at least. If not, I suppose I can always get the scholars from the Mages Guild working on it."

Lucien was silent for a moment. "You know," he started haltingly, "I sort of like the fetcher."

A grin started on my lips. "Martin?" I asked. Lucien nodded thoughtfully. "I told you he was fine," I said. "Martin doesn't have any intentions toward me, Lucien."

Lucien made no answer, but rolled on his side toward me and gathered me in his arms. "Let's have our few hours of sleep, if we can, Anoriel," he said. "They want us back in the Great Hall at seven, and we can discuss it all then."

I nodded tiredly, but it seemed to be hours before I fell asleep.

**-Interlude-Lucien-**

"Lucien Lachance."

That hiss woke me from my thin sleep, and I raised my head jerkily towards the door at the sound. I looked down at the Breton in my arms, lips curled in a trusting half smile as she slumbered. Gently, I slipped away from her, and cracked the door to the bedroom.

"What?" I asked the old man at the door. Jauffre, Anoriel had called him.

Jauffre looked at me intensely, lips thinning. "I want you to meet me in the armoury, tonight at three in the morning. What say you?"

"Alone?" I asked.

"Alone," he confirmed. "Do not say anything to Anoriel."

I nodded curtly and shut the door in his snivelling face. Most interesting.

I turned and moved quietly back into the bed. The fire had died while we slept; and the room had regained its chill. As I pulled the covers to my shoulders, I watched Anoriel. She still slept with the same trusting look on her face that she had the first night I had come to her: cheeks slightly puffed out, mouth pursed, long lashes brushing her cheeks. Her long dark hair, darker that mine, was spilled across the pillow, and her sweet young skin looked smooth as the still waters of Lake Rumare. She held the blankets bunched in her arms, but as she felt me reenter the bed, one sleepy hand snaked towards my body. It rested on my rib cage, and was still. I covered her hand with mine.  
_  
Whatever that old man wants, I will do it. Anoriel should not be treated harshly because of me. _I was sure there was some kind of devious task he would have me do to prove my honor. Probably quite dangerous, as well. For if I failed, what was the great loss? The Blades would be closer to eradicating the Brotherhood. I was sure they would not hurt Anoriel-I did not think Martin would let that happen. Anoriel had proven herself to these men, over and over again. She was worthy of their trust, and I would not taint that.

I rolled fitfully, crushing Anoriel's hand. She jerked in her sleep, and let out a muffled squeak. I pulled her into my arms, and tucked her head against me. She sighed, and I watched the snow falling on the darkening day through the window for a long time.

--

I awoke tired and tangled in blankets and hair, glued to Lucien. My sleep had not been restful; I felt more worn out now than when I had laid down. I blew out an exasperated breath, and Lucien kissed my forehead.

"What is the time?" I asked him.

"We have about fifteen minutes to get down to dinner," he said. "We should get moving, sweet girl."

"Sweet girl?" I queried, smiling. "For being locked in a room in a temple full of people who are not happy about you, you are certainly being sweet yourself!"

Lucien gave me a resigned smile. "I have been hated for almost as long as I can remember, except for the Family, Anoriel. It is nothing new."

I sat up, putting my arms around him. I kissed his ear, and whispered, "Well, I do not find you fearsome, or loathsome, or any of that!"

"And that," he said, pulling me onto his lap, "is why I keep you around."

"_You_ keep _me_ around!"

He started kissing me.

A knock at the door startled us, and we looked up in time to see Martin peeking through the door he had cracked open. The Blades, about ten of them, were all bunched up behind him. I imagine that seeing us, our frightening and sinister Black Hand selves, clad in only our underwear and kissing furiously while I sat on Lucien's lap did a bit to dispel their worries.

I pulled up the blanket. "Erm, hello, Martin!"

Martin groaned. "Let me guess. The novelty of the Emperor's bed proved too much for your resistance."

Lucien chuckled. "Oh, that's good!"

"We were just getting dressed," I said, drawing myself up and trying to look regal and respectable.

One Emperor, ten Blades, and one Speaker burst out laughing.

"Oh, you bunch of fetchers." I smacked Lucien on the arm. "Why are _you_ laughing!"

"All right, Anoriel. I just wanted to wake you for dinner. Come down when you are ready...I hope it shall not be too long." Martin rolled his eyes and shut the door.

Lucien released me, laughing. "I do like that man. And I don't think he needs a coach, Anoriel!"

I slid off the bed. "Oh, shut up." I started pulling on my robes, and leaned over to buckle my boots.

--

Dinner in the Great Hall was a surprisingly low key affair. At the table were only Martin, Jauffre, Steffan, and Lucien and myself. The other Blades were hidden in the shadows against the wall; no doubt watching Lucien and me like hawks.

Martin and Steffan made small talk with Lucien and me, sharing and trading the news of the world they so desperately wanted. Isolation at Cloud Ruler Temple was hard for them, and Lucien and I told them of what we had seen lately. Steffan seemed as relaxed as Martin-he was more willing to trust his Emperor, I suppose-but Jauffre eyed Lucien suspiciously throughout the meal.

As we finished the main course, Martin leaned back in his chair. "Anoriel," he said, "I have translated part of the _Mysterium Xarxes_ this afternoon. I'm afraid I have to send you on more scavenger hunts."

"For what, exactly?" I questioned.

"I know I need a Daedric artifact-perhaps Azura's Star-and I also need a Great Welkynd Stone," he said. "I will need four things, but that is all I have translated at this point."

"Azura's Star," I mused. "Will it be destroyed?"

"It will," he responded.

"Will any artifact do? I would hate to lose that to the world."

"I believe so," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I have some books you can look over, and see if any of the artifacts suits you better." He looked at Lucien. "It is not easy working with that book," he told him. "My eyes burn if I work on it too long, but time is of the essence. Regardless," he continued, "I expect you both to make a bit of a stay here, as I translate. I wish to know the entire story before I send you out, in case I am wrong about parts of it."

I nodded. Lucien remained still. "How long?" I asked.

"A few days, perhaps," answered Martin. "But I believe Jauffre has a task for you to do while you wait." He gestured to Jauffre.

"I believe there are spies in Bruma," said Jauffre. "I need you to investigate that, Anoriel. I think they are watching the movements here at the Temple. Captain Burd in Bruma may know more, but the people I have seen tend to hang around a stone halfway between here and the city, during the night."

I started to rise. "Then I shall go, and see what there is to be seen."

Martin shook his head. "Not tonight, Anoriel. I recommend you sleep tonight, and speak with Burd in the morning. You look too worn out to be effective, if you'll pardon my bluntness."

I nodded, and sat back down. "You speak truly, dear friend," I said, and smiled softly at him. I cast a sideways glance at Lucien, who had been extremely reserved through the meal; only speaking when spoken to and not offering an extra word. Polite to a fault, yes, but unusually thoughtful and quiet. His hood was pushed back, and his eyes looked tired. Occasionally they drifted to Jauffre for a minute, but then returned swiftly to his plate. I moved my hand under the table and laid it on his thigh; he covered his hand with mine and smiled at me briefly.

Martin rose and pushed his chair back. "I should go back to work," he said. "I need to figure out the other item. Er, other two items, I mean." He gave a strange, embarassed smile, and glanced at Jauffre. I saw a flicker of warning in Jauffre's eyes. _They are up to something._

"Martin," I said quietly, "let me clear our things from your room."

He shook his head. "No, Anoriel, I wish you to stay there." He smiled gently. "It is too grand a room for me. I am going to sleep with the Blades." He raised one eyebrow. "If I do get a chance to sleep, that is."

I rose and bowed. "As you wish...dear friend."

"I will see you in the morning, Anoriel. Good night."

"Good night, Martin."

I turned and walked out the door, Lucien trailing quietly. The Nord guard opened the room door for us, and shut it behind as we went inside.

"I think I will have a bath, Anoriel," said Lucien, going toward the tub.

"But we have no cupboard," I smiled.

"That was your concern, not mine," he said teasingly.

I picked up the book on Daedric artifacts and settled in the bed to read. Lucien bathed quietly, only a slosh of water heard occasionally. I fought to maintain good composure, and not peek, but it was hard to resist. A lovely image of him burned in my brain: back to me, head resting on the tub's side, dark hair wet and slicked back. His eyes were closed as the steam rose around him, mouth open slightly and arms laid along the shelf of the tub. _He is as stunning as a god,_ I thought. I wanted to crawl to him, whisper into his ear, and worship at his feet. My eyes rose over the book as he got out, the darkness of that corner of the room keeping his modesty intact. Yet I could see the hard thighs, the straight shoulders; the silhouette of a fighter. He dried off, and put on only his underwear. He puttered to the sink to shave, carefully scratching the razor along his jawline, feeling his face after each stroke. His profile was regal against the dark wall, his shadow tall. I hurriedly refocused my attention on the book. I had to have something intelligent to say, or else my daydreaming would be blindingly obvious! He joined me in bed rather soon.

"Wabbajack," I said, nose stuck in the book. "That sounds entirely useless. I am loath to destroy Azura's Star."

"Let me see," he said, taking the book from me.

"While you read," I said, standing up and stretching, "I will bathe."

"Oh no! Surely I cannot be present at such a sacred moment!" he said in mock horror. He put the book over his head.

I was no longer divided in mind after watching him bathe. I wanted to possess him. Kicking off my shoes, I walked softly to his side of the bed. I grasped the book and pulled it away from his face. Leaning over to kiss him, I whispered, "Watch me."

His eyes searched my face, and he sat up slowly. "What changed your mind?" he asked, voice thick. He took my arms in his hands, and sat me next to him.

I kissed him, biting his bottom lip gently. "They wanted to kill you," I whispered. "You will never be taken from me again, unless you yourself do it. Our time may be short, but you will not slip through my fingers, Lucien. I will not allow it."

His jaw moved, clenching and unclenching. "Anoriel," he started, but trailed off. He took a breath, seeming to compose himself. He reached out, and opened my Black Hand cloak, pulling the cloth off of my shoulders. I slipped my arms out, and he pushed it down around my waist. I stood, letting the robe fall.

He stood, guiding me toward the tub. I knelt to pour in the water, and he knelt behind me, unhooking my bra. Sliding it off over my arms, he kissed my neck. I stood to get in, and two fingers slid my panties off, trailing down my thighs as he did so.

I stepped out of them, and he slid his own underwear down.

"I guess another bath won't hurt," he said quietly, eyes hungry.

He got in first, and I sat between his legs, leaning into his chest. I dunked under, getting my hair wet, excitedly aware of how close I was to him. As I settled back into him, he took the soap, and rubbed me with it, carefully washing my back and neck, and moved with slick hands to my breasts. He only did a token washing as I twisted my neck to kiss him; the soap soon slid out of his hands as he caressed me.

Our tongues danced in each others' mouths, and I grasped his neck from behind with one hand. One of his hands slipped down to my belly and lingered there.

"It's all right, Lucien," I whispered into his mouth.

His hand dipped beneath the surface of the water, and gently began stroking.

I threw my dripping legs over the sides of the tub.

His stroke hardened as he bit my shoulder. I heard his deep, rapid breathing, and felt it tickling my shoulder. One of his hands clasped around my throat as the other stroked; sliding up the side of my face. I turned my head and took one of his fingers in my mouth, pulling at it with my lips. He groaned, and I felt him stiffen behind me. His hand stopped its caress, and he plunged two fingers inside of me. I pushed my hips against his hand. His thumb made little circles on me, higher up.

"Oh, gods," I whispered.

"Out," he choked. "Out, out, we must get out."

We shot up and out of the tub, dripping and trailing water all along the floor. Manhandling each other, we fell onto the bed, and he mounted me, parting my legs. The tip of him touched me, pushing. I clenched with impatience.

"Hurry, Lucien!" I whispered frantically.

He hesitated. "Anoriel," he moaned, as if in great torment of mind.

I held my head up, worried, trying to push away the insistent pounding of blood rushing in my head. "What is it, Lucien? What's wrong?"

"It's..." he blew out a breath in anger. "It's just...not time. I would not start what I may not be able to finish." He pulled himself up and away, and stalked off toward the bathtub, recovering his underwear.

I moved up onto my elbows, still naked, and confused. "What in the hell are you talking about, not able to finish? Lucien!" I stood up, shaken.

He fumbled with his clothes and didn't look at me. His jaw was moving, and he blew out angry bursts of breath. "Gods-damnit," I heard him spit out under his breath.

"What did I do?" I cried out miserably.

He looked at me with alarm. "Nothing, Anoriel, nothing," he said hastily. "I just...have something I need to do. Something I need to prove. When it is done," he continued, great sadness in his eyes, "I will be a whole man. And then," he said, moving toward me and grasping my arms, "I will not deny you."

"I don't understand," I whispered wretchedly.

"At this point," he whispered back, intensity burning in his eyes, "you cannot. But you will! And there will be no more secrets, Anoriel. I swear it." He looked almost wild, like the expression seen on a fearful caged beast.

I pulled away. "Do not hurt me! You must not. I will not recover. Walking the streets of the Imperial City, after I was sure you had died, I thought that I would not. Now I know I would not. Do not break me, Lucien! I need you." I turned away, and went to fetch a shirt of Martin's to wear. I felt uncomfortable naked.

"Come to bed, Anoriel. Let me hold you for a while. That, at least, I can do." He looked at me pleadingly.

I turned, and ran into the bed, hiding my face and hurt in his arms.

**-Interlude:Lucien-**

I awoke in the middle of the night, bitter and murderously angry. My internal clock had been set, and it was time to prepare.

Silently, teeth clenched, I released Anoriel and carefully rolled her in her blankets. The room was black, except for the dim light of the moon, and I felt for my robes. I knew I had found mine when I felt the tear in the wrist.

_Damn them_, I thought._ Damn them all for this treachery they have forced upon me._

I quietly pulled on my boots and buckled them. Anoriel had cried, I had felt her tears trickling down my chest. She now slept the sleep of the exhausted; one worn out in body and soul. She would not wake.

I took a long last look at her sleeping form. Even in sleep, her mouth was turned down at the corners, as if she remembered her hurt even in her dreams. It made me angry enough to cut into my lip with my teeth. My fists clenched as I turned toward the door.

I opened it, and stepped into the dim hall. Jauffre was waiting, and the Nord guard was quiet. As I closed the door softly behind me, Jauffre nodded to the guard, who locked the door from the outside.

"You," I snarled in a low voice at Jauffre, "have cost me dearly."

He nodded, emotionless. "Come with me."

I followed him down two flights of stairs, and across the Great Hall. We entered another door, and descended to a basement.

Martin was waiting, swords and armor stacked up around him in the room.

"You are in on this too," I said evenly.

He rose. "Lucien," he said. "I would prefer that this not be this way. But Jauffre will not be denied." He glanced at the captain. "He did not trust Anoriel for a while, either. And this news of the Brotherhood has unsettled him greatly. Surely you understand that, Lucien!" His face showed great torment of mind.

"I do," I said. "But leaving Anoriel out of this is treachery. I do not stand for treachery!"

Martin looked sad. "Yes, I know, and I hate it. But I agree that it is necessary."

"Well. I did not come here to mince words. What are you having me do?"

Jauffre looked surprised.

"Of course you're having me do something, you wretched ass," I roared at him. "I have to prove my damned honor or something to you. You need to know that your Emperor is safe with me stalking the halls. You cannot even believe Anoriel, who has risked her life countless times for your schemes, while you sit here in this fortress whimpering like a bastard dog!" I spat.

Martin spoke after a moment. "I cannot stop your anger, Lucien, and I will not hold it against you. I will make this short. I have identified the third item needed from the _Mysterium Xarxes._ You must go to the burial chamber of Tiber Septim, in a fortress called Sancre Tor. It is rumoured to be haunted and extremely dangerous, which is why the shrine is not open to pilgrims." He paused for a breath. "Retrive the armor of Tiber Septim, and bring it to me."

I nodded. "Give me directions, and I shall go. I will not waste any more time."

Martin produced a map, and pointed out the location of Sancre Tor. I marked it on my map, and then a thought occured to me.

"I will do this for you. But you will do something for me, as well."

Martin looked at me warily. "What is it?"

"I want to send a friend of Anoriel's here. In case I should not return. She will need someone to comfort her, and I trust neither of you to do it. It also occurs to me you could be plotting to eliminate the Black Hand, by sending me to an ambush and killing her here. While I doubt that," I continued, "I do not trust you." I pointed to Jauffre. "Your zealousness will not touch her, or I will rain upon you horrors unspeakable. Are we clear, Bladesmaster?"

Jauffre said quietly, "I wish no harm upon Anoriel. Do not doubt that."

Martin spoke up. "Send her friend," he said. "For even if you do return-and I believe a man of your skill will-she will need comforting while you are gone, and I do not think she will be pleased with any of us here."

"Good," I answered. "Tell her I have taken Shadowmere, to ride with more haste. Now, if you can give me my bow and blade, I will be out of your way."

"They are upstairs," said Martin. "We have repaired them."

I nodded.

Martin and Jauffre led the way out of the room, and Jauffre fell in behind me as we ascended up the stairs, through the hall, and out to the porch.

Martin handed me my blade, shining in the cold light of the night. "Go with the blessings of the Nine, and return with speed," he said.

"The Nine can rot. I serve Sithis," I answered, and mounted Shadowmere. I caught the reins of my new white horse, and led him next to me. With one last glance back, I spurred Shadowmere on, and pointed my path toward the Imperial City, thundering off through the snowdrifts of Bruma.


End file.
